


Tokens

by The_Erudite



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-04
Updated: 2014-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:33:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 129,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23535349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Erudite/pseuds/The_Erudite
Summary: Morgan wants to know more about her mother and father, but they're both such busy people. She has to rely on simple stories they can tell in between the times they're together. For this particular subject, however, Morgan's patience and persistence know no bounds.
Relationships: Anna/My Unit | Reflet | Robin, Azur | Inigo/Marc | Morgan, Chrom/Olivia (Fire Emblem), Gerome/Lucina (Fire Emblem)
Kudos: 7





	1. Tokens

"Father?" the tactician recognized the familiar voice before the mop of maroon hair appeared before him, as if out of thin air.

He slapped the book he was reading shut, careful to mark his spot, "Aren't you supposed to be in bed?"

"I can't sleep," she remarked plaintively, "will you tell me a story?"

"You're a little old for bedtime stories of heroes and damsels in distress, aren't you, Morgan?" he patted her head as she stepped next to him.

"I guess, but what about a different kind of story?" she suggested.

"Such as?"

"I'd like to hear more about you and mother. It might help my memory," she smiled.

"You already know how we met, when I proposed, we told you about the wedding…" he listed, "what else do you still want to know?"

"I was hoping you could fill some of the gaps in between. Like, for example, you and mother have both said you had some kind of conversation that made you interested in each other the evening you met. Tell me about that."

"All right," he resigned, sighing, "but, be honest, Morgan: this has nothing to do with you being unable to sleep, right?"

"Not in the least," she nodded, hopping onto his bed. He sighed again.

* * *

The tactician ran a gloved hand through his hair, feeling the cool and textured leather along his scalp. The hand dropped. He sighed with fatigue. Pressing the hand back onto the old oak desk that sat in front of him, he examined the pile of papers that assailed his eyes. He couldn't even begin to focus on the dreaded things. Still, it was his line of work, now, there was nothing to do for it. Praying for a distraction, the tactician took note of how far the candle he had set out had burned down, as it was nearly consumed by a pool of its own wax by this point. The flame was low, and the color flailed limply in the dark that was quickly encompassing the walls of the tent. Taking a pen in his hand exasperatedly, the young tactician began to take a note: "Predicted high-level resistance, likely the force will need to be divided into two to effectively deal with opposition. Ask Stahl and Sully if able to lead north force. Keep an eye on Chrom, his rage may make him foolish."

Suddenly, a sound. The light tap of a boot. The tactician sprang to his feet and removed the small blade he had so carefully hidden in his sleeve.

"Eek!"the red-haired woman before him squealed.

"Oh,"the tactician breathed, stowing away the blade, "It's you. Gods, don't sneak up on me like that."

"I kinda need to," she smirked, though her voice shook, "I wasn't even sure if anyone else was allowed in this tent."

"They're not, ordinarily," the tactician made his tone very distinct.

"Oh, pffft," the merchant girl stuck her tongue out at him, "don't give me that. I was just checking up on you. You do remember saving my life earlier today, right?"

"I just made things easier, you could've handled them," he sighed, sitting back down.

"I was trying to compliment you, sheesh," she shrugged. Receiving no response, she glanced over his shoulder, staring down at the papers: an unintelligible mass of scribbling and crossed-out notes, a large "X" here and there, names, lists; were Anna not so used to her own vast inventory, the cacophony of writing might have been enough to make her nauseous. "I see the stories are true; you work non-stop. You are the tactician I've heard so much about, right? Robin?"

"That's right," he acceded quickly.

"Do you remember my name?" she tapped her index finger to her bottom lip.

He paused, still not looking at her, "I don't know that you actually provided me with it."

"Oh, gods curse me, you're right. I only talked with the captain, a few of the girls, and that weird guy who kept bugging me for candy. I'm Anna, or Anna the Merchant, if you prefer, though most folks who aren't so privileged as to know my name call me 'The Secret Seller.'"

"'The Secret Seller?'" he repeated, "Did your six-year-old niece come up with that, or something?"

"Hey!"she scolded indignantly, "I like that title!" The tactician made a scoffing laugh and returned to his work. She smirked sidelong at the tactician,"So… whatcha doin'?"

"Sorry,"he sighed, not acknowledging her, "can we talk later? This is rather important."

"Later?"she chuckled, "The sun set almost eight hours ago, buddy. We stay awake much longer, and your 'later' is like to become 'early.'"

"Did you come in here just to make fun of me?" he looked back to her bemusedly.

"Maaaaybe…" she wound a lock of her hair around her finger, smirking.

"Great,"he smirked, too, "just what this army needed: a damned comedian."

"By some of the descriptions I've heard, it already had one," she crossed her arms.

"Really?"the tactician set his pen down, "I suppose I need to have a chat with a few of the troops."

She laughed. After a moment, she recovered her composure, "I really do want to thank you for today, though."

"It was the right thing to do. Anyone would have done it," he dismissed again, retrieving his pen.

"There it is again," she giggled at him, "just take the praise! Gods, you'd probably argue with me for saying you looked handsome out on the battlefield!"

The pen stopped again and he turned around, "You thought I looked handsome?"

Realizing her slip, she crossed her arms again, "In a totally platonic, friendly, pedestrian, just-saying-hi kinda way."

"Uh-huh,"he nodded sarcastically, "but 'handsome,' eh?"

She used the same tone, "I guess, if you're into the whole youthful boyish charm mixed in with a touch of workaholic."

"But, 'handsome,'" he insisted, grinning.

"You are the worst," she sighed resignedly, "Don't stay up too late, you bastard."

"Thanks, hate you, too," they both laughed as she proceeded out of the tent. For once, Anna found herself legitimately frustrated. It wasn't something she was accustomed to feeling; she always got the better of customers in the end, how had he managed to get one over on her, to make her feel like this? She shook her head; it was cold out, and she didn't mean to stand around in the frozen air until dawn.

* * *

"I don't get it," Morgan reported, "you were being pretty mean to each other."

"I suppose that's just how your mother and I are, Morgan," he smiled, picking her up off of the bed.

"But, all the romance novels I've read have the man and woman acting all mushy and constantly talking about how one makes the other feel. The ones that have the people talking most of the time, anyway, some of the others—"

Her father cut her off, "I think I might need to keep tighter tabs on what I let you read. And, anyway, Morgan, your mother and I are people, not characters in some book. We have our own personalities. Don't believe everything you read."

"Great,"came another voice, "does this mean I have _two_ night owls in the family now?"

"Evening, honey," the tactician called out.

"Mother!"the little redhead chimed in, greeting her at the doorway with a tight hug.

"You,"she poked her daughter's nose, "are supposed to be in bed and fast asleep. Did your father drop the ball again?"

"Hey, hey, she stayed up all by herself, I didn't drop a thing," Robin defended.

"I'm not even tired, mom," she pleaded.

"Well, your mom is. Why don't you kiss you father goodnight and everyone can settle in for a nice, relaxing evening of sleep," Anna patted her daughter's back, facing her husband to show the weariness in her eyes.

"Do what your mom asks, honey," Robin encouraged.

"Aw,"she pouted, lowering her head dejectedly, "I just wanted to hear more about you two. I was hoping you could tell me a story, too, mom."

"A story? What story did your father tell you?" Anna raised an eyebrow.

"About the first conversation you shared," she said.

"He would tell that one," Anna quipped aside.

"but I didn't understand why it made you want to see father again. You were kind of mean to each other… are you both into that, or something? I've heard some couples enjoy hitting each other's—"

"Morgan!"her mother chided, "Your father and I will both thank you to stop thinking about that. Anyway, honey, what's the matter? Do you think your father and I don't love each other?"

"I…I don't know… sometimes you both seem really… tired," she explained.

"That's only from work, sweetie. We still love each other very much," Anna smiled. Her husband nodded fervently from the bed.

"So…will you tell me a story about you two, then?" her eyes glowed again.

"Kiddo, I love you, but, honestly, what else is there to tell? You've asked me for almost every detail of everything I could remember," Anna sighed.

"What about…" she paused to consider, "After the wedding ceremony? There are those big parties, right, and everyone dances? How was that?"

A smirk quickly developed over Anna's face, "Oh, gods, that's right! Your father…"

* * *

"Dance?"he repeated.

"That's what people do. That's what they'll be expecting," she nodded laboriously.

"May be we should defy expectations?" he laughed weakly.

"What are you getting all hot under the collar about, Robin?" she stared at him.

He scratched his neck, reminded of the collar of the outfit, "I can't dance, Anna. I never learned. Nor did I want to, if I'm honest…"

"Wha-?You're telling me this _now_?" she glared at him furiously.

"I wasn't aware this was some sort of tradition," he covered.

"Pegasus dung, you were at Chrom's wedding. You know exactly how these things go," she lectured.

"Yeah, but… I never danced," he admitted.

"Why not?" she wondered absentmindedly, "I mean, besides the fact that you didn't know how."

"No partner," he remarked somberly.

She took him in and, after a moment, sighed, "You just have to go and make everything difficult, don't you?"

He grinned knowingly, "Hey, you married me. I guess I'm just your burden from now on."

She held her head in her hands and laughed wryly, "This is going to _suck_."

"The dance, you mean?" he placed a hand on her shoulder.

"No, gods save me, the dance we can fake, at least. It's marrying you that's going to be the death of me," she smiled at him over her shoulder.

"Hey, now that's just plain mean," he pouted.

"Aw, I'm sorry, big guy," she lowered herself, "can't take a little joke from the wife?"

"You're right," he guffawed, "this _is_ going to suck."

"Robin, Anna?" Lissa called tentatively from the entryway to the chamber. "Oh, thank the gods, you're still decent," she breathed a relieved, if less quiet than intended, sigh.

"Everyone's still waiting for you guys."

"Just…"she stammered, holding his hand and staring into his eyes, "follow my lead, okay?"

The two proceeded out into the hall. Robin swallowed hard as he noted the presence of all his comrades, each staring at him with remarkable interest. All except for Tharja, anyway, who had obscured her face throughout the whole ceremony, clutching disbelief like a security blanket. Other than her, however, Robin felt himself shrink under the admittedly affable, but clearly bored gaze of the Exalt and the interested excitement in the eyes of his new wife. They took their place at the center of the stage, and without missing a beat, the sounds of an orchestra began with a burst that made Robin jump, somehow failing to notice them prior. After composing himself, he offered his hand to the redhead, who took it cautiously. As a few delicate strings were plucked on the harp, Robin took note of the rhythm, carefully cradling his wife's waist and swaying her to each side with each note. After a few seconds, his confidence slightly established, he began to step, once to each side, then back again and to the other. As he allowed himself to hear more of the musicians' sounds to reach him, Robin began to play with the sound in his mind, swaying in his steps. Here, back and forth, there to the left and after to the right, Robin couldn't believe it: he was enjoying himself. Maybe it had something to do with the view, he considered, staring into his wife's face, which appeared thoroughly confused.

"Remember when I told you to follow my lead?" she asked, leaning her head over his shoulder, whispering into the nape of his neck.

"Yes,"he deferred, "but now you're going to follow mine."

"You look like an idiot," she rolled her eyes, a smile painted on her face.

"So what does that make you?" he added.

Abruptly, she pulled away, yanking his hands and arms forward until their conjoined arms lay straight and parallel before them. A few inhalations and murmurs appeared from the crowd. She gripped her fingers through his and quickly wrapped her own arm around his waist, leading him in a circle. A few laughs escaped the collected Shepherds. Playing along, he tossed his head carelessly over her shoulder, doing all that he could to accentuate the gesture, endeavoring to flip his hair mockingly. She continued leading him, "In another life, you'd make quite a wonderful lady."

"So would you," he snickered, mirroring her by whispering down her neck. She placed her foot down, the heel of her shoe grinding into her husband's foot. With a wince, he apologized.

"You follow my lead, are we clear, buddy boy?" she cupped a hand to his cheek, appearing to cradle his head.

"Sorry,"he broke away in much the same manner she had, though this time, he released one of her hands and tugged the other over her head, "but I'm not used to being led around. Not good at following directions, you know?" He twisted his wrist slightly. She knew what it meant was expected of her and began to pirouette as best she was able, letting his surprisingly firm hand guide her momentum for a few rotations, then slowed to a halt facing him again. He bowed and kissed her hand as their audience clapped.

"Oh, yes, I know. Can't live without having the last word," she drew in close and let her palms fold around his collar, their foreheads nearly locked together.

"You know it," he gently held the back of her head and pushed it toward him for a kiss. A wave of admiring "aws" spread quickly through the women in the room, excepting, again, Tharja, who pantomimed vomiting.

The orchestra began to build their song to a crescendo, meaning it was time for the couple to wrap things up. A smirk on her face, Anna broke her husband's embrace, winding around to his back, placing an arm around his neck, first, to imitate choking, which elicited a few chuckles, then grasping at his shoulder and through the back of his hand, she leaned backward. He followed along again, letting himself be tossed back, feigning the face of a disaffected bride. The Shepherds broke out into raucous applause and bouts of laughter as the dance came to a halt. Robin bowed formally and his wife delivered a very cordial curtsey, then the two turned to one another and kissed once more, bringing about another wave of cheers.

"Robin, Anna," Chrom announced from on high, "I say this to you as a friend and as the friend of your husband, respectively: What the hell is wrong with you two?" He joined the rondo of laughter with an incredulous grin. The pair smiled in each other's embrace, ignorant of them all.

* * *

"Aw,"Morgan cooed, "that one was much sweeter." She hesitated a moment, replaying

the story in her mind, "But all you did was insult one another. I don't understand. Why does this kind of thing make you fall in love with each other?"

"I guess your father's just a strange man, Morgan," he admitted, rising from the bed and patting her shoulder.

"And your mother was the only woman crazy enough to like him," Anna straightened out her daughter's hair.

"If being in love with you is crazy, then sanity is overrated," Robin smiled to his wife.

"Oh, gods, that's so trite," she shook her head.

Morgan frowned, saying nothing, but both her parents took note of it quickly. "But if you're trite, you're trite. You're still my husband, and I love you more than anything."

"And I you, Anna," he smiled as they joined in an embrace. He pursed his lips, closing his eyes and leaning his head forward-

"WAIT!" Morgan exclaimed.

Both her parents leapt a foot back from the other. Anna turned her head first, "What, honey? You just about gave your mom a heart attack."

"Sorry, sorry," she dismissed, "but I think I get it now."

"Get what, dear?"

"You and father, why you love each other so much."

"Oh, this I've got to hear," Robin leaned forward with sardonic interest.

"You and mother both want to be more clever than the other! Your constant one-upping of each other makes you feel good, and, in the meantime, it's a 'thrill of the chase' sort of deal," the little redhead reported matter-of-factly.

"Ha!" Anna scoffed, "As if I need to put any effort into getting one over on your dad."

"Funny, I recall you complaining that it took a lot of effort to 'get one over on me,'" he winked at her.

She blushed, "Robin! Gods, your daughter's in the room!" Morgan stared at him, clearly perplexed by the remark.

"Just bear it in mind, sweetheart," he took his wife's face in his hand and kissed her, "your father puts up all the effort, and he gets one over on your mother plenty, and sometimes, she does him, but, at the end of the day, we're both on even ground, loving each other very much." Morgan said nothing, the metaphor obviously completely lost on her. "Time for bed, now," he reaffirmed, kissing his daughter's forehead.

"O... kay..." she shrugged, "Goodnight, mother, father, I love you."

"Goodnight, honey. Love you, too," they responded almost simultaneously.

"Now that was just depraved," she tapped his forehead lightly with a scolding index finger.

"But accurate," he smiled knowingly, "You know you love it."

"Uh-huh," she rolled her eyes, "lie down."

"So you can 'get one over on me?'" he couldn't help but to laugh.

"If I don't suffocate you with a pillow tonight, we'll see," she walked to the other side of the bed and playfully lobbed her pillow at his head.

They slid in close. "Goodnight, Anna," he breathed, shutting his eyes.

"Goodnight, you bastard."


	2. Change

"The _whole_ day?" she asked incredulously.

"It's not up to me. Chrom needs my help, I'm duty-bound to serve him. The man saved my life, Anna. I'm sure you can appreciate that," her husband asserted.

"But what about Morgan?" she followed up.

"You can take care of her, can't you? You're her mother," Robin shrugged, surprised it was even a question.

"Of course I can," she crossed her arms, indignant, "the problem is that I have other responsibilities, too, unlike you, Mr. _Retired_ Tactician. Speaking of which, what could Chrom possibly need you for that takes up the whole day?"

"I can't say," he sighed, "He told me it's a 'matter of national security.'" He mimicked an intensely furrowed brow and ran a mocking hand through his hair, combing it carefully. Anna couldn't help but allow a giggle. "I'm sorry," Robin breathed, taking his wife's hand, "but this could be a good chance for you. I bonded with her over tactics, now it's your turn to find a common interest between you."

"Yeah, yeah," she sighed, "go to your secret boys' club meeting. Maybe I'll teach Morgan how to stay away from the binding affections of men."

"You'll hear no argument from me," he smiled sidelong, taking steps toward the door.

She laughed as he parted. There was undoubtedly something within him that had changed since the day they were married. It wasn't that she felt estranged in some way, but her husband, Anna had noticed, seemed to possess a natural paternal instinct that had kicked in the moment he met Morgan. That was what confused Anna: she was the mother. She was the one who was supposed to know what her child was going to do before the thought even appeared in the little girl's head, but she took so much after her father, by the look of things, that it was impossible to determine if she ever really thought much of her mother. Anna clenched her fist in half-joking determination: she would earn the trust and respect of her daughter, and by the time her husband returned, there would be a whole new family dynamic.

"Morgan, honey?" Anna called up through the small room.

She bounded into the room in an instant, "Yes, mother?"

She put an arm around her daughter's shoulder; "You're coming to work with your mother today, sweetie."

"Okay!" she replied, darting outside to hop onto the cart that awaited them both. Anna shook her head. It was difficult not to be captivated by that girl's enthusiasm.

Settling onto the cart, Anna stared straight ahead as her smiling daughter plopped herself down next to her mother. After a few moments of silence as the horses began moving, Morgan spoke up, "Mother?"

"Yes, dear?" Anna concentrated on the road.

"When you realized you… liked father, what did you do?" Morgan pressed her index fingers together.

"What do you mean, Morgan?"

"I mean… who did you talk to? Where did you go? Did you speak to father right away, or…?" she continued, voice wavering.

"Oh," Anna thought quickly, "I see. As I recall…"

* * *

"So, Anna, darling," the blonde with the ridiculous ponytails began, "we're interested to hear a little about you."

"Me? Oh," she dismissed with a wave of her hand, "there really isn't that much to tell. I've just been a merchant girl all my life."

"But you must have some stories, or something, the other blonde, the princess, with her equally ridiculous pigtails, remarked.

"In my line of work, the fewer stories I have, the better," Anna breathed. She didn't have much patience for this sort of conversation; prying into others' lives for valuable information was _her_ job.

"Well, then, at least tell us how you feel about the… ahem, pool around here?" the first blonde said with a smirk.

"I don't follow," Anna admitted.

"Come now," the woman rolled her eyes and exaggerated her posh voice, "there must be someone around this camp that you… fancy."

"Oh," Anna's eyes widened, "No. No, I'm not much for romance."

"That's a lie!" the other blonde started smirking now, too, her voice singsong.

"Oh? Lissa, dear, do you know something?" her companion begged with interest.

She tapped a finger on her temple knowingly, "Uh-huh. I saw you sneak out to Robin's tent last night. I heard you two laughing inside."

"Robin?" the other girl's eyes narrowed. There were a few murmurs from the other women, who had also gathered around to meet the new arrival, "That's an… interesting choice."

"Wait, whoa, whoa," Anna put her hands up, "I just thanked him for leading my rescue, that's all. We joked back and forth a bit, and then I left. That was all."

"Did you, perchance, take note of the depth of the collection of literature present in our tactician's meager domicile before succumbing to your amorousness?" Miriel adjusted her glasses.

"Hey!" the redhead insisted, "I didn't 'succumb' to anything! We talked and had a little laugh, that was it!"

"Aw, listen to you," Sully grunted, "The fact that you're denyin' it so much means it's the truth, whether you like it or not, girly."

"Don't you 'girly' me, sister," Anna glared at the other redhead.

"Don't you 'sister' me, little lady," Sully countered.

"Don't you—"

"Oh, shut it, the both of you," snarled a voice from the back of the room. The two redheads became silent as they searched for its source. A strange, raven-haired girl sauntered into view. "You," she pointed a finger at Anna, "you'll keep away from Robin's tent from now on. Only I get to 'drop in' there." The curious girl giggled in a very unsettling manner.

"I go where I please," Anna beamed, apparently the only one not frightened to silence by the girl.

"I don't like you," she returned simply, staring coldly back.

"Aw, Tharja, don't be mean! We should be nice to our new friend," chirped a small girl with emerald hair as she walked by Tharja. "So, hey!" she smiled at Anna, "I'm Nowi!"

"Nice to meet you, Nowi," she tenuously shook the little girl's hand. Must be a manakete, to be around here, Anna surmised.

"I hate to say it, but you may just be barking up the wrong tree if it's Robin you're after," another redhead entered the scene.

Anna cocked an eyebrow, "You mean you think he's—"

"Oblivious?" she cut Anna off, "Definitely."

"And why do you say that?" Anna continued, unsure why she had asked.

"I tried speaking to him the other day. Gods, I couldn't have been more obvious in petitioning him. I asked him at least a hundred personal questions, I put my hands over his, I even stood right behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. Caressed it, I would say," she sighed.

"Maybe you laid it on a bit thick?" Anna supposed.

"I thought of that, but he never even looked at me the whole time. He just stared at those silly books of his, not even acknowledging me but to dismiss me with some sarcastic remark," she spat.

"Aren't those 'silly books,' like, his whole workload, or something? Are you criticizing him for working too hard to keep you alive instead of flirting?" Anna wondered sardonically.

"At the very least, I'm saying he's not the most attentive man, and may not make for the best husband. Are you saying you know something more than us?" the other redhead returned.

"'Us?'" Anna repeated, "How many of you have an interest in him?" Several heads turned and eyes darted away in the room. Tharja raised her hand.

" _Seriously_?" Anna sighed, "I didn't think he was anything _that_ special."

"But… he is kinda handsome. And the way he speaks… ooh," Lissa argued with decreasing coherency.

"You know what?" Anna threw her hands up, "Fine. I'll go over there and show you all how easy this can be." She proceeded out of the large tent. Quickly, the other women began to file out behind her.

"Morning, Robin," Anna announced in her most glowing saleswoman's voice as she drifted into the tactician's tent.

"Morning," he replied curtly, "I thought I mentioned troops really shouldn't be wandering in here. What does it matter, though, you all just keep coming in, anyway…" He sighed to himself.

"Sorry," she lowered her eyes. The tactician still hadn't looked at her. "I just wanted to come say 'hi' to you. How are you holding up?" she picked her chipper tone back up.

"Fine, same as last night," he proceeded, undaunted.

"Do you feel like getting some lunch, or something?" she hoped.

"I'm a bit busy, I'm afraid," he informed the pile of papers before him.

"Would you like me to bring you something, then?" Anna pressed.

"Not hungry," he replied more definitely.

"Would you care to talk, at least?" she threw out, exasperated.

"About what?" he mused.

She rolled her eyes, "Anything. How's your work coming along?"

"Fine," he repeated, striking at the paper mercilessly with his quill.

Anna threw her hands up, knowing that the tactician still was not looking, "Did you cut your hair?"

"When would I have had time to do that?" he dismissed.

"Argh!" she growled, "Would it kill you to just look at me?!"

He dropped his quill and turned in his seat to face her, "Is something the matter?"

"Yes, something's the matter," she lowered her head resignedly, "Since yesterday, I realized you're just about the only sane person here. I was just hoping for a little normal conversation, because gods know I can't get it with anyone else."

"Oh," his eyes widened and lips curled into a distasteful frown, "I am sorry. I wasn't aware."

She continued to hang her head, "Forget it. Didn't mean to disturb you…"

"No, wait," he stood, catching her, "I'm starved. What say we have a little lunch together, hm?"

"Sounds nice," she flashed a smile.

The other women, gathered along the side of the tent, bunched together to escape the tactician's view as he stepped out astride Anna. When she was certain he wasn't looking, Anna craned her neck to the group and stuck her tongue out. It took only a few minutes to reach the mess tent, whereupon Robin and Anna each acquired a plate of food and plopped down on either side of an inconspicuous table. The area was empty, save Stahl and Kellam, though no one had realized the latter was present.

"So," Anna wondered aloud, swallowing a mouthful of potatoes, "What did you do before you were a tactician, Robin?"

"Before I was a tactician…" he inhaled and closed his eyes. After a moment, he released, "I don't know."

"What do you mean, you 'don't know?'" Anna lowered her fork.

"I have amnesia. Specifically, retrograde amnesia. I can't remember anything before Chrom happened upon me a few weeks ago," Robin explained.

"So… you wouldn't know if you had a girlfriend? A wife? Children?" Anna thought.

His eyes narrowed, "I had considered that before. Yes, if I had any family, they're unknown to me now." He stared straight down, not daring to take anything from the plate.

Anna took notice: "Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you upset. I'm sure you don't have anyone waiting for you anywhere, and…" she slowed, realizing what she was saying, "and that doesn't sound a lot better, does it?" He shook his head.

"The best thing I can do is try to focus on what's happening now," he yawned, pausing, his eyes fluttering quickly.

She snapped her fingers, "Are you okay?"

He started and shook his head again, "Ahem. Yes, fine, sorry."

"You're exhausted," she looked at him pityingly.

"Don't know the meaning of the word," he cleared his throat, slowly beginning to dig into his food. She frowned.

"If you ever need a nap, you could always sneak out. I've got a couple of pillows lying around in my inventory," she suggested.

He smiled at that, "Thank you, but I don't think I could bring myself to do that."

"What's the matter, scared to break the rules? Afraid old man Chrom might catch you in the act?" she goaded him.

"Terrified," he acceded, "this is the only living I can make right now."

She laughed, "Well, if things go south, I can always use an extra hand around the shop."

"'Errand boy' isn't high on my list of alternative careers," he quipped.

"Well, I _was_ just gonna kinda give you the keys, but, 'errand boy'… That sounds pretty good," she grinned.

He chuckled gently, "I like you, Anna."

She couldn't help but to blush a bit, "Um, thanks?" _Who just_ says _that_ , she wondered.

"You're welcome. It's very nice to have someone I can talk to like this," he continued to smile.

"Sure thing," her eyes shifted.

"Does this make us… friends?" Robin supposed aloud.

"What kind of a question is that?" Anna gave her first thought voice, cocking an eyebrow.

He lowered his gaze, "I'm sorry. I must sound like a madman from time to time. The amnesia… makes it difficult to recall some concepts. I'm… sort of… relearning social graces, if that makes any sense."

"Oh," her eyes widened with realization, "Er, yes, I suppose this does make us friends."

"Ah," the smile returned to his face, "good, then."

"Unless…" she risked, letting her hand drift close to his, unattended on the table.

He looked down at it, then back up to her, "What?"

She pulled away, "Never mind."

"I'm sorry, am I forgetting something else?" he watched her carefully.

"No, no. I was just… thinking of something," she dismissed.

"Well, this has been a nice chat," he surmised, adjusting his collar.

"You're leaving?" she pouted, "You've barely touched your food."

"I'll finish it in my tent. Thank you, mother," he smirked.

"Yeah, yeah. Try not to fall asleep and drown in it," she returned.

He smiled earnestly, "It really was good talking to you, Anna."

"You too," she winked at him, "You're… a good friend, Robin. Very good." She noticed some redness in his face as he collected himself and hurried out.

* * *

"Hah!" Morgan laughed, "And father says _I_ can be naïve."

"He got better over time," her mother nodded, taking some of the cargo from her cart.

"So, did you fall in love with him right away? Like, at first sight?" Morgan pressed.

"I don't know, honey. I don't think so. Your father takes a little… getting used to," she considered, index finger to her chin.

Morgan gave a snide smile, "Or you just don't want to admit how completely smitten you were with him from the first moment. It's okay, mom, I understand. If someone like father had rescued me from certain death, I'd be swooning over him all the time, too."

"That's not—I—" her mother stammered, "Who's swooning? I don't see or remember any swooning."

"It's all implied," Morgan surmised, "It's okay. You two are adorable."

"How about you just unload the cart, young lady?" Anna leered at her daughter.

"Whatever you say, mom," she hummed in a singsong tone.

"Gods, you're as obstinate as your father," she slapped her palm over her forehead.

"What?!" she jumped, "You think I'm like father?! YES!"

Anna rolled her eyes at her daughter. This was going to be a long afternoon.

* * *

"Afternoon, Lucina, and… Lucina," the tactician saluted sarcastically as the twin Ylissean princesses drifted by, the younger counterpart in her mother, Olivia's, arms.

"It does feel a bit redundant, doesn't it?" the elder Lucina tilted her head toward him.

"Work to do, Lucina," Olivia clapped her hands quickly.

"Right, mother," she followed quickly.

Chrom settled himself back to the table, obviously distracted by admiring his wife as she drifted away, the newborn babe in her arms. He smiled broadly as she and their daughter continued up the stairs.

"Still enamored with those child-bearing hips?" Robin supposed with a laugh.

Chrom's face reddened, "I'll thank you to remind yourself of your place, Robin."

"I don't think I have any business there," he pressed on, gesturing back toward the queen.

"I can have you beheaded on order, you know," the Exalt lowered his brow at his friend.

"Pfft. You need me," the tactician scoffed. He indicated the forms and memoranda sitting before him, "Otherwise, what'd be the point of all this?"

"I can get a new tactician. I hear there's a little redheaded girl in the kingdom with quite a penchant for the job," he challenged.

"Yeah, she'd be better than this rusted old salt," Robin laughed, stroking his lapel.

"Gods, when did you start talking like that? You're no one's grandfather yet, Robin," the Exalt reminded.

"War and peace," Robin breathed, "both have ways of reminding a man of all the things he needs to do. And I've got a lot on my plate."

"I'm sure Anna will understand," the Exalt cleared his throat.

"'I'll thank you to remember your place, Chrom,'" the tactician lisped in a mocking impersonation of the Exalt.

"Oh, blow it out your arse," Chrom dismissed.

"I need to make sure I do things right, Chrom," Robin sobered, his determination palpable, "I want there to be someone there for both of them… all three of them, when the time comes."

"What's this about, Robin? You don't feel worthy of her?" Chrom supposed.

"Not in the least. Why should any woman have ever picked me, her most especially?" Robin shook his head, smiling.

"Naturally, I can't answer that, but it's clear as day she loves you like a brother," Chrom attempted to console his friend.

Robin laughed discouragingly, "I would hope she loves me more akin to a _husband_. Gods, you royals do have some strange family ties, don't you?"

Chrom's face descended into crimson as he cleared his throat again, "T-That's what I meant. Anyway, enough with your self-pitying crap, we have work to do."

Robin laughed in the Exalt's face.

* * *

"Ugh," she groaned, "Seriously? Chrom knows we're married, right?"

"That's what I said," Robin sighed, settling in next to her, "I'm sorry, honey. I wish there were something I could do…"

"Forget it," she smiled, "I may just have a talk with the Exalt, myself. Maybe decrease the flow of trade in his little capital…"

"Gods, that's vindictive," he stared straight ahead.

She smirked, "I know, love me?"

"Love you," he embraced her, "Did you and Morgan get some bonding done today."

"We're working on it," Anna sighed a little.

"'As obstinate as your father,'" came the none-too-silent repetition from their daughter's room.

"So, you're bonding over… me? I'm not sure how I feel about that," he smiled, shutting his eyes.

"I am," she covered his face with a pillow and lay on top of him.

"You have to deal with her by yourself for the rest of your life if I suffocate," he mumbled from beneath the fabric.

"Good point," she removed it, laying it and her head back down in their usual spot.

"Good night, Anna. I love you," he kissed her.

"I love you, too, you damned fool."


	3. Finder's Fee

Anna sat gingerly on the edge of the bed. This had been a rather curious morning. Within the first day of his new responsibilities to the Exalt, her husband had already shirked his travail so as to care for her, not that she minded. Anna had been completely overtaken by some illness out of nowhere early that morning, and she counted herself quite lucky that her husband seemed to have some idea of what was going on; that was more than she could say for herself.

Presently, he walked over to her and cradled her shoulders in his arm, "How's your stomach feel now, all right?"

She didn't feel much like opening her mouth after what had come out of it earlier that morning. Nonetheless, she coughed, "Y-Yes. Better. Thanks."

He nodded his head dutifully and grabbed her hand with his empty one, "I'm no physician, but I would highly recommend you get some rest."

"The store," she sighed. An independent merchant couldn't call in sick; who would gather the profit then?

He hugged her tighter, "Anna, I know your business is your life, but I don't think it'll mean the end of us if you would let it go for one day."

"Blech," she groaned simply, leaning into him.

Robin turned his head to a creak from the doorway, "Morgan?"

"Is mother okay?" she pursed her lips, eyes wide.

"She'll be just fine," Robin pecked his wife's forehead.

"What's the prognosis, doc?" Morgan inquired, quite a bit rejuvenated.

"Hard to say right now, hon, given that I'm not licensed in medicine," he shook his head.

"But you know everything, father!" his daughter replied.

Anna giggled, "No, he just thinks he does."

"Didn't I tell you to get some rest?" he rubbed her shoulder playfully.

"Mmm," she grunted, lowering her head into her husband's lap, "tell me a story, papa." He blushed and stared at her, unsure if she was joking or confused. "Come on," she insisted, "Morgan will want to hear something new, too."

He rolled his eyes and turned back to his daughter, "Any thoughts, sweetheart?"

She considered carefully as though she were arbitrating a major debate before settling on an idea, "Mother was telling me about your first date the other day. Did you two go out any more after that?"

Robin thought a moment, "Oh, after 'lunch.' No, your father didn't really have time for dating while managing an army."

"Don't lie," Anna jabbed her husband's knee with her shoulder, "There was that other time… Remember?"

He cleared his throat, "Er, no."

She stuck her tongue out, "C'mon, you know! _That_ day!"

"You're sure you want to tell Morgan about that?" he whispered.

"Of course," she nodded slightly, "She deserves to know everything about her mom and dad. I know how a girl can get about that sort of thing."

"For the record, I don't have any interest in hearing stories about your father's love life," Robin sighed.

"Stuff the jokes and just tell the story," she slapped his side limply.

"Well," he watched his daughter's face carefully.

* * *

"Afternoon, tactician-boy! How ya feelin'? Exhausted as usual?" she chirped, lowering her crossed arms on top of his head.

He struggled a bit, then resigned himself, "I was just resting my eyes, I swear."

"Sure, sure. If I die, it's on you, but, please, rest your eyes a little longer," she teased, speaking directly into his ear.

"Don't joke about that. I couldn't stand to lose… anyone," he announced after a minute.

"Really? Even me?" she smiled, "Even if I did… THIS?!" She swept her foot parallel to the ground and kicked the legs of the chair in which the tactician sat, collapsing him to the dirt beneath.

"No," he sighed, dusting himself off, "Gods know even death wouldn't stop you."

"Got that right," she grinned again.

"So, what's the deal today?" he resumed, picking up and replacing his chair, "New get-rich quick scheme? Miracle snake oil you want to sell me? Come to gloat about profits?"

She frowned indignantly, "Maybe I just wanted to see you." He stared at her a moment, then laughed dismissively. She joined him after a moment.

"Really, now," he sobered, "what did you want?"

Her eyes shifted away, "I, uh, hear the fields along the plains in this country look beautiful this time of year."

"And?"

She clasped her fingers together, "I was going to go for a little walk… Wanna join me?"

"What, and hold your parasol, or something? Forget it," he quipped, reorganizing his desk.

"Hey," she stamped a foot, "I'm being serious. No parasols, just a little walk. Or is that too much for the master tactician to handle?"

He raised an eyebrow at her, "Oh, really? A walk? Yes, a walk. I suppose that would be fine."

She smiled at him, noting that his entire demeanor had shifted at what seemed to be the drop of a hat. She was more than confident, and thusly more than pleased to note that she had been the cause of his sudden turnabout, "Now, then, suppose you'd carry a lady's things?" They both laughed as he followed her out.

The first several minutes of their walk proceeded in almost total silence, their boots rapping dryly off the earth beneath them as they strolled through the low grass, occasionally glancing over into the gold-trimmed horizon, and with even more occasional trepidation, stealing glances at one another. At last, Anna, already finding silence difficult to maintain prior to the walk, began to breathe conversation into the air: "It's lovely countryside, isn't it?"

"Quite," came the curt reply.

"Honestly," she pressed him, "do you suppose you've ever seen a sight so splendid?"

"I should think not," he addressed the grass.

"One might even go so far as to call it romantic," she hazarded, peeking at him over her shoulder.

"Perhaps so…" he noted, still examining the field. After a moment, he raised his head and added, "Is there something you mean to say, Anna?"

She recoiled, "N-No. How do you mean?"

"My mistake," he dismissed, "I thought perhaps your remarks were…" He let the thought hang and drop to the ground.

Anna had prepared to respond, however, her attention was diverted by the appearance of an old domicile that appeared just on the edge of her vision. For some reason, Anna couldn't help but be attracted to the little wooden place. It had a rustic charm about it, that was what she decided was her reasoning. "Say, Robin, mark that house over there?" she encouraged him.

"Oh, yes, I see it," he nodded, "What of it?"

"I rather like the look of the place. Care to investigate it with me?" she smiled.

"I thought we were going for a walk, not house hunting," he scoffed.

"Oh, lighten up," she nudged him, "let's do something fun, something unexpected!"

"I'm a tactician, the unexpected is my worst enemy," he lamented.

"The you have to get used to confronting it, come on," she yanked him away by the arm.

As they drew near the modest home, Anna sauntered up to the door and grasped the handle, only for the door to loosely fall open at her slightest tug. Shrugging, she made her way inside, the tactician following reluctantly behind. It was evident the place had been abandoned for years, as it was covered in dust, cobwebs, and all manner of grime that had obviously set in after its original owners had departed. Upon a quick inspection, Anna noted the rotting wood and sullied carpets that adorned the floors, as well as what Robin felt were clearly unsafely weakened support beams.

"I think we've seen about all we need," Robin surmised, carefully vaulting over a ratty, ruined chair that lay overturned on the floor.

"I want to have a look upstairs," Anna determined, indicating the staircase that was quite clearly in a massive state of disrepair, parts of it already having been fractured off.

Robin shook his head, "There's no way I'm going up that."

"Fine," she pushed him aside, "I always knew I was the one with the most guts." To the pair's mutual surprise, Anna made her way up the ancient stairs without issue. She laughed confidently as she taunted the tactician from the upper level, then made her way into a bedroom, one of three on the upper floor. She walked around and examined the large, rather unspoiled, plushy bed that sat in the middle of the room, but drew back, reviled when a quick feel of the furniture revealed it was utterly soaked with… something. Anna dared not think what. A few more steps prepared her to leave the bedroom, but she was suddenly halted. As if it had come alive, the wood beneath Anna's foot seemed to wrench up and catch her, twisting her body mid-stride and causing her to fall to the dirtied floor with a shout.

Without another word, there came a thundering up the degraded staircase, then a snap, as well as a frustrated, "Son of a bitch!" and, finally, Robin entered the doorway, kneeling down to the collapsed redhead: "Anna, are you all right?"

"I think so," she bleated, pushing herself up. She was immediately halted by a searing rush along her leg, causing her to shout again.

"Easy," he placed a hand on her shoulder, then looked to the leg that had been caught by the wood. He crawled over to the limb and gauged it, before placing his palm over it carefully. Anna winced. "Does it hurt when I put pressure here?" he inquired, pushing his palm into her ankle.

"Ouch," she spat first, "Yes."

"Well, that's simple enough, then. I think you twisted your ankle, Anna," he remarked, removing his hand and looking her in the eye.

"So, what'll we do?" she wondered. She wasn't well versed in first aid; people usually rushed to help her when she was in trouble, so she didn't usually need much looking after.

"I could return to camp and ask for help…" he thought aloud.

"You're not going to just leave me here!" she reprimanded.

"Oh," he realized, "Of course. That would be dangerous."

After a quick pause, Anna became impatient as the tactician sat and thought, "Hello?! Any other brilliant ideas?"

He cleared his throat, "Well, if you're comfortable with it, I could carry you back to camp."

"Fine, just get me off this gods-damned dirty floor," she railed. He carefully slipped an arm beneath her neck, then another very delicately behind her knees and stood slowly, so as to keep her injured ankle away from duress. Slowly, he made his way out of the room and toward the stairs. Confronted with the foe from before, no sooner had the tactician made his first step than he was thrust forward by the frayed wooden planks giving way again. Quickly, he rotated his body so that he fell to the floor first, supporting the injured Anna as she fell limply onto him.

"Agh! Watch what you're doing!" she barked. He coughed in response. "Robin," she breathed after a moment, "are you all right?" Two coughs. Gingerly she pushed herself off from atop him, shaking his shoulder, "Robin, answer me." She waited another moment, then, frustrated, slapped his face, "Answer me!" When the tactician still did not answer, she noted his eyes were half-closed and not responding to the sensation of light. "Oh, gods," she murmured. Still having no idea what to do, she recalled the actions of physicians she had watched and heard of in the past, and crept back over the tactician, first pushing down, and then simply striking his chest repeatedly.

"Agh, ow! Stop that!" she finally heard him wheeze.

"Why didn't you answer me, you bastard?!" she threatened him.

"What do you mean? I just… we fell down the stairs and…" he wondered, his eyes searching the room.

She relaxed, "Forget it, let's just keep going." He grunted, then sighed. "What's the matter?"

"I can't feel my legs," he admitted weakly. Anna turned around and slapped her palm over her mouth at the sight: The tactician's left leg had been rotated in a direction not within the normal range of human movement, and the right was impaled by a rather sizeable chunk of the rotten wood that had sent them flying.

"Well… Dammit," she sighed.

"Some romantic walk," he digressed, "Sorry."

"Why are you apologizing? I was the one that got us into this mess," she resigned.

"If I had been more careful, we could've at least gotten back to camp," he persisted.

"Forget it. Not your fault," she sighed, "Gods, I'm just exhausted." She relaxed herself and let her crumpled body fall on top of the tactician's, grabbing his shoulders for support.

"It's probably not the best idea to fall asleep right about now…" he droned, though his own eyes were quickly being overtaken by a whiteness. Before long, the both of them had slipped into unconsciousness.

* * *

"Robin, for gods' sakes, compose yourself!" barked a voice from above.

The tactician started awake to the sound of the captain's voice: "Chrom! Uh… what?"

"Get up, you layabout!" he commanded.

He struggled, then sighed again, "I can't move my legs, Chrom."

He rolled his eyes, "Then tell Anna to cover herself and get off of you."

"Anna?" he repeated dumbly. The tactician looked forward to find that she lay atop him in a rather compromising position, but, he had been unaware, her smallclothes were clearly visible, among a few other features, past the waist, where from her pants appeared to have been pulled down.

After a moment, the redhead shook her head and yawned, staring into the tactician's eyes, "What is it, Robin?"

Robin's face was soaked with red; "Your clothes," he managed.

She took stock of the room for a moment, then, suddenly, noticing the sensation, squealed in surprise as she yanked her pants back over her rear. "C-C-Chrom," she noted nervously to the captain, "I—we didn't—this isn't—"

"'What it looks like?'" he finished for her, "I don't care what it is or isn't, it's after dark and I find you two in here goofing around. I had Shepherds sweeping the plains for hours looking for you."

"We didn't go very far… it took you hours to find us here?" Robin coughed.

Anna punched him, "Not helping."

"Apparently no one even saw this house until we asked Tharja a few hours ago," he reported sternly.

"I wonder…" Robin thought aloud.

He was cut short by the raven-haired girl bursting through the door as if summoned by the thought, "Did you find him?" Noticing Robin collapsed on the floor, she leapt to his side, "Oh, gods, Robin are you all right? I've been worried sick! Maybe if you weren't gallivanting around with harlots like her things like this wouldn't happen…"

"Harlots?" Robin repeated, "Tharja… did you have something to do with this?"

Her eyes widened, "What? N-No. I would never…! How could I stand to see you hurt?"

"What do you mean, 'hurt?'" Chrom pushed beside her.

"What are you, blind, you fool prince? Look to his legs," she scolded.

"Gah!" he gasped, "Oh… That's why you couldn't move your legs."

"That would be why," Robin compounded, more than a little sarcastically.

"But why were you fooling around like this instead of seeking help?" Chrom asked.

"We weren't fooling around; she twisted her ankle, I tried to carry her down the stairs, and, suddenly, they broke and we fell. Neither of us could move, we both fell unconscious," Robin reported.

"Tharja said she could hear you… Erm," he cleared his throat, "she could hear movement. She was the first one to discover you two." The captain turned his head to where the raven-haired girl ought to have been, but she had disappeared. The Shepherd's captain sighed to himself, "Well, I'll go get the others to take you two out of here. We'll get you fixed up. Don't move… Well, you can't but… Oh, hell, you know what I mean." He shook his head as he shoved the rotten door open.

As he left, Anna turned her head back to the tactician, "Did you pull my pants down like that?"

"With you grasping my shoulders like that? I don't think I could have if I wanted to," he dismissed irritably.

"'If you wanted to?' What's that supposed to mean?" she snarled.

"I thought you'd be glad to hear I didn't try to remove your clothes while you were unconscious!" he railed back.

"Oh, to hell with it," she sighed, lowering her head back down next to the tactician's, "I don't care what you did, I just want to rest."

"I didn't do anything," he repeated to himself as the room fell silent.

* * *

Robin stroked his wife's hair as she breathed softly into his lap. He smiled to see her eyes loosely shut as she heaved and sighed, now deeply asleep.

"Some date," Morgan giggled quietly, "I'm surprised you two could ever stand to see each other again after something like that."

"We almost couldn't," Robin whispered, "I think the next actual conversation we had was the one at Chrom's wedding."

"She seemed to not be very angry about it for that being the case," Morgan tapped her finger to her chin inquisitively, "Nor did you."

"We had plenty of time to cool off," he noted, "Plus, there was that time she came to my tent to persuade me to go to sleep and I threatened to have her thrown out; I'm sure she told you that."

"I remember a mention of something to that effect," Morgan nodded.

Robin moved his hands carefully, drawing his wife up and placing her head upon the pillow whereupon it typically rested, cradling her cheek as he managed to move her over silently. "Like to help me make some soup for your mother, Morgan?" Robin suggested, standing carefully, so as not to shift the bed dramatically.

"Ooh, yes," she licked her lips, "soup would be great."

"For your _mother_ ," he repeated.

"Sure, sure," she waved him off, "but I can have some, too, right?"

He laughed and rolled his eyes, placing his arm around his daughter, "Sure thing, honey."

* * *

"First day on the job was a day off…" Anna murmured as her husband settled in next to her, "That might mean a pay cut."

"It might, were Chrom not so desperate for help," he laughed.

"Thank you for taking care of me today. You did an excellent job," she lauded, rubbing his shoulder, "I'm still enjoying that soup. You might just make decent husband material after all."

"It was nothing," he dismissed, returning her embrace.

"No, really, it was rather exceptional, as if you knew exactly how I was feeling, at times. How did you do that?" she pressed.

"I guess you could say one needs only know what to look for," he smiled slyly.

"And what is _that_ supposed to mean?" she cocked any eyebrow at him.

"Oh, nothing," he dismissed airily. He kissed her, "Good night, Anna, I love you."

"Goodnight to you as well, Robin. I love you, too," she relished their closeness and nuzzled into his shoulder.

"And," he put a hand forward to stroke his wife's stomach, "Goodnight to you, Morgan."


	4. Expenses

"A baby," she murmured, "Gods save me, a baby."

"Honey, as much as I love you, do you suppose you could do your pacing about in the other room for a little while?" her husband asked groggily, his eyes loosely shut.

"Kind of having a moment, here!" she yelled back, agitated.

"But you had to know this would happen," he suggested, "you've already met Morgan."

"Well, you'll forgive me if I find pregnancy a little different than just meeting our daughter as a teenager," she grunted.

Sighing to himself, Robin stood, "I know. I can't claim to have any idea how this might make you feel, but everything is going to be fine." He placed his hands firmly upon her shoulders.

"Would that I might share your confidence," she lamented, supporting her head with her palm.

"People keep saying that," he looked aside, "but it's not I who is confident. The fact that you people surround me makes me confident. You most especially, Anna. You're in control of everything."

"I used to be," she corrected, "then I met you, and everything in my life has been topsy-turvy since."

He laughed to himself, "So we're equally helpless. I suppose that's what makes us so perfect."

Her entire body shook, "If you're done laughing it up, I'm losing my mind just a little bit over here."

"I'm sorry," he held her, "ease those nerves. Everything is going to be all right. I'm here, Morgan's here, and I'm sure you could talk to Lissa, or Maribelle, or…"

"Yuck," she stuck her tongue out, "Dealing with you is bad enough, but those two… That's a whole different kettle of fish."

Smiling, he kissed her quickly, "Do you want me to stay with you again today?"

"No," she sighed at length, "Chrom's good graces can only last so long, even for you. I imagine you'll get an earful today. I'll be fine, though, go ahead."

"You're certain?" he eyed her carefully.

"Go," she shoved him playfully toward the door, "I can't stand you for another minute."

"Oh, gods," he sighed laboriously, "that makes two of us." He snickered as he turned his collar up and tugged at the ends of his cloak.

"Insensitive jerk," she pouted with a knowing smile.

"I love you."

"Get going," she winked at him. As he parted, Anna settled herself back onto the bed. This was more than a strange sensation. To know that she would have a child was rather unsettling in itself, but the fact that that child was also in the other room, likely humming to herself or leafing through some musty old book was incredibly confusing for her. Certainly, this was far from where she had predicted she would find herself three years prior. With a husband and with child, that, she determined, was something she could not even have envisioned at the time. The very notion of romance had long been alien to her, and yet, that tactician, damn him, had managed to completely change the way she viewed the world. Now, there was space for affection and feelings where before all that had mattered was a profit and the next step forward. Again, the redhead stuck her tongue out, nonplussed by how incomprehensibly strange the world had become. Luckily, to break her metaphysical stupor, a creak announced her daughter's presence in the doorway. "What is it, Morgan?" she called.

She heard her daughter mutter a mild curse, then tenuously pose, "Are you all right, mother?"

She sat up, "Of course I'm all right. Why do you ask, dear?"

"The baby…" she replied carefully.

"Yes," Anna nodded, rubbing her stomach, "it is rather odd, isn't it? Though, I imagine, as strange as this may be for me, it must be ever the stranger for you."

"It hurts my head to even think about it," Morgan admitted. She focused intently on her mother's stomach a moment, before announcing, voice quivering, "Can I… feel?"

"Babies usually don't start to kick for another couple of months, at least," Anna smiled at her daughter.

Morgan averted her eyes, "I know… I just… I just wanted to…"

"Well, there's no harm in it," Anna supposed, moving her arms and baring her stomach for her daughter.

Immediately, she pressed her face into it, then leaned an ear to the side. Hearing nothing, she turned her head to face… herself again and whispered, "Be strong, little Morgan. Everything is going to be fine. Mommy and Daddy love you very much." Anna smiled quickly, but the smile disappeared when her daughter retired her position and, finger to her cheek, asked, "What do you suppose we'll do when the baby is born?"

"Whatever do you mean, Morgan?" her mother raised an eyebrow.

"I mean, I love you guys… but, er, I deserve to grow up in the same environment, without having to compete with… myself for attention," Morgan determined, her brow furrowing at the very thought.

"Morgan, we could never abandon you like that," her mother cooed, cupping a hand over her daughter's cheek and brushing a lock of hair out of her face.

"I know. And that's why I'll have to leave of my own accord," she declared.

"Enough of that," Anna kissed her daughter's forehead, "You're welcome to stay here as long as you please, darling."

She smiled slightly, "Thank you, mother, but even the daintiest chick must fly the coop eventually."

"I suppose. Know that you will always have a place to roost and clean your feathers here, though, my little chick," Anna pecked her daughter's forehead again.

"Thank you, mother," Morgan smiled.

"Now," Anna resounded, "Come away. We've got work to do today."

"Yes ma'am!" the smaller redhead saluted.

"Mother?" Morgan's head poked out from behind the crate she carried into place.

"Here we go…" Anna sighed to herself, "Yes, sweetheart?"

"Did you and father have a honeymoon?"

"Of course, dear," Anna stated plainly, arranging her display of swords.

"How long ago was that?" she pressed.

"Just after we were married, dear. About two years ago," Anna continued fixing the balance of the blades.

"Ah, then that's not it," Morgan resigned disappointedly.

"That's not what, honey?"

"Oh, nothing, just thinking," her daughter prevaricated, searching numbly through a pile of supplies.

"You can tell your mother anything, Morgan," Anna reminded, still fiddling with the swords.

"What did you and father do this past August?" she asked after a moment's consideration.

"What an oddly specific question," Anna replied, incredulous, "We spent most of our time trying not to be killed by Grima."

"Grima…" Morgan thought aloud, picturing the unsettling, dark impersonation of her father she had seen on the battlefield that day, the same day she was certain she had lost her father for good. "That must have been quite a scary time for you, as a wife," Morgan supposed.

Anna bit her lip, endeavoring not to remember the time, "Yes, it was rather… difficult."

"Did you speak to father before the attack? I know I did," she continued.

"I did."

"Could," Morgan stammered, "Could I hear about it?"

Anna inhaled deeply and began.

It was another late night for Robin, his hands tense and agitated with cramping pain as every new stroke appeared on the page before him. That was nothing special, nothing new, that was how it happened every time he worked to formulate a new strategy, but this night was different. At all times there was a shuddering, an implacable coldness in the pit of his stomach. A voice reminded him at all times that this would be the end. He had made the decision—it was an easy one for him—but the trouble now lie in how to tell his wife, the one who loved him more than anything, lest he condemn her to a lifetime of wondering why he left her. Would it be right to tell her, and how could he? Robin propped his elbows on the table and dropped his head into his hands. For once, he determined, this problem was simply too difficult.

"You look like you're having a tough time," he froze at the voice.

"Yes. How does one combat a dragon?" he allowed, staring at the wall of his tent, smiling weakly.

"How does one combat oneself?" she compounded, standing next to him at the desk, contributing to the smile.

"Indeed," he noted uselessly.

"Something's bothering you," she detected.

"What makes you say that?" he wondered, turning his head to her.

"No jokes, you won't look at me… you're not yourself, Robin. What is it?" she placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Perhaps I'm simply nervous," he rationalized, running a hand through his rather disheveled hair.

"The Robin I know doesn't get nervous. Not when he's been getting ready for so long," she dismissed.

"Maybe the 'Robin you know' is a façade," he spat, "I've never been confident a day in my life, around you most especially."

"Nor does her relentlessly self-deprecate like this," she lowered her face near to his own.

"I'm sorry. Perhaps I'll just get to sleep now…" he mused.

"Robin," she tightened her grip on his shoulder, "I'm your wife, for whatever that's worth to you—"

"It's worth a lot," he breathed huskily.

"—so you have to be willing to tell me anything and everything. Please, just be honest, what's bothering you, my husband?"

He stared at the pages arranged before him another moment, then shook his head, "Forget it. Why is it that we allow troubles to become the focus of our conversations? I love you, Anna. Let's speak of something pleasant for a moment."

She turned his head so that they could each gaze into the other's eyes, "Robin. Talk to me."

"I mean it," he continued, "Let's talk about what a wonderful daughter we raised in the future. Isn't she beautiful, Anna? And so innocent…"

"Robin, you're making me quite upset," Anna admitted shakily, "Why won't you just tell me what's wrong?"

"Isn't our daughter beautiful?" he repeated, lowering his brow concernedly to her, crestfallen eyes beneath.

"Yes. Yes, she's lovely, Robin. Perfect, even," his wife acceded.

He remarked with a strained throat, "I don't want anything to ever hurt her, Anna."

She nodded, "Nor I."

"And I don't want anything to happen to you," he added, staring into her eyes deeply.

She reciprocated the gesture, "Nor I to you, Robin," she massaged his shoulder to rouse him, "What is this about?"

"I'm sorry, Anna," he sighed, "I've been an unkind husband to you."

"What do you mean?" she frowned.

"In the midst of running an army, I haven't ever really had the chance to be close to you, intimate, the way a husband is meant to be with his wife. I've been reserved and unaffectionate, and I'm sorry," he shook his head, gesturing broadly.

"Robin, honey," she dismissed, "you know that's not true. You've been a wonderful husband to me."

"No, no," he shook his head vehemently, pain stinging his throat, "but I haven't been there at your side at all times, as I should have. That's the mark of a good husband."

"Oh, enough," she ran her fingers through his hair and bobbled his head to each side, "You've been a fine husband, there's no need for all this strange sentimentality, out of nowhere. I knew when I married you that we couldn't spend every waking moment together, but that has nothing to do with whether or not you're a good husband. That you're there when I need you, or when Morgan needs you, that's what makes you a good husband, and you've never disappointed. So, stop all this silliness and just tell me what's on your mind, big guy."

Robin reclined in his seat. He had been covering, at first, but now he was genuinely interested at the message his subconscious had delivered, "Have I really? You would say I do enough for you? That I fulfill my duties as a husband?"

"More than enough," she dissuaded, "I know you've always cared for me, Robin. Even if," she giggled, "you aren't always the best at showing it. I'm not the most expressive girl either, but we've an undeniable parity, you and I. That's what makes this special."

"Anna," he looked away. A telling smile crossed his lips, "I love you."

"I love you, too, Robin," was all she could declare as she stared back.

Suddenly, Anna felt her husband's hand over her own, the fingers running along her skin, caressing it, as if it would shatter if touched incorrectly. At once, he stood from his desk, wrapping his other arm around her waist, still caressing the smaller hand in his own, as he smiled uncertainly into his wife's eyes. She was overcome with surprise as he leaned in to kiss her. A deep, longing kiss, where every unexpressed element of pensiveness and repressed sentiment moved along his lips as she felt her eyes shut tightly. "Let me be to you as a husband should," he breathed into her neck as they broke apart.

"Robin?" she couldn't help but chuckle as the name escaped her lips. Something was undoubtedly wrong with him, but there was another motivation behind his gaze: a purity, a lightheartedness; if only for a moment, Anna saw her husband become a child professing his feelings for his first crush, a little handwritten love letter passing between their hands, moments of pensive silence, blushing faces and overly long scratches on the neck as neither party dared upset the other. Then he kissed her. And kissed her again. He was a different man in this moment, he wasn't thinking, as he was accustomed, he was feeling. There was purpose and emotion in his every smallest movement, gently fondling the supple locks of her hair as he caressed her neck, she supported herself on his broad shoulders and felt herself falling back, completely blind and yet more aware than ever as the beginning of a wonderful rhythm overtook her, and before long, his hands navigated away from her hair and toward her thighs. She was unaware of her furrowed brow as her husband admired her with a longing smile, and then they sense one another's need. He began to work at her belt mechanically, and she grasped hungrily at his cloak.

"A-Anyway," Anna coughed, blushing, aware that she had explained, perhaps, a bit too much, "that's all you need to hear about."

"I'll say," the smaller redhead frowned and stuck her tongue out, "Gross. But at least that means I'm right."

"'Right?'" Anna wondered, "About what?"

"When you and father elected to have a family," she resounded.

Anna thought, then blushed at her daughter, "Well, I don't know that it was exactly a conscious decision at the time-"

"What, consumed by your passions?" the little redhead teased.

"What business have you got asking questions like that, anyway?" Anna replied, thoroughly flustered.

"Just trying to figure my parents out, that's all," Morgan concluded airily.

Anna shook her head. That girl was something else.

* * *

"Chrom working you to death again?" Anna regarded her exhausted husband, who was sprawled out on the bed.

He yawned, "No, I'm fine if you need something."

"Oh, cut the half-assed white knight crap," she scoffed, imitating her husband's yawn.

"How is everything? I mean, has it sunk in yet? Do you feel all right?" he wondered through closed eyelids.

"Oddly enough, I think I'm at peace with it now, yes," she concluded.

"That's good," his eyes reopened, "Now why don't you give the baby and yourself the chance to rest?"

"Some of us have things to do, you lazy bum," she placed a hand on his leg and shook it.

"Some of us have already done things," he quipped, rolling over.

"Fair point," she agreed, "I'm exhausted, scoot over."

"You know I'll be ready at any time, and I'll drop any job Chrom gives me to take care of you two," he rubbed his wife's stomach tenderly.

"Of course," she nodded. After a moment more, she giggled at him, "Gods, making quite the habit of that, aren't we? Did you make up this whole pregnancy thing just so you could rub my tummy?"

"I wouldn't be above it," he snickered, then, lavishly, "you're very soft."

"Yeah," she sighed, "that's your fault. I used to have a six pack that put half the Ylissean knights to shame."

"Sorry, but I like it better this way," he pecked her cheek, "It was lot more difficult to find release on a bed of stone."

She scoffed with humored disgust, "Must you be so perverse?"

"Only around you," he laughed.

"Morgan was worried this afternoon," she sobered, "She said she'll have to leave once the baby is born."

"You told her she needs not do that, right?" he hoped.

"Of course," she replied, "but she seems rather determined to go, maybe purely for herself."

"I see..." Robin sighed, irresolute.

"We can have another talk later," Anna determined.

"Right, when we're together," he surmised, staring straight ahead.

"All right," she yawned again, "enough talk. Time for sleep."

He settled back into the bed and embraced her, "Naturally. Good night, Anna. I love you."

"Love you too," she reciprocated with a kiss, "Good night, you self-martyring moron."


	5. Surcharge

Robin stood quietly as his daughter hopped from stall to stall excitedly, exclaiming with brilliant, wide eyes whenever something caught her attention. The little redhead scoured diligently through the piles of merchandise and practically frothed over with joy upon discovering new items to sate her curiosity. At last, however, Robin saw the mop of maroon hair bounce toward him as she called, "How about this one, father?"

"It looks lovely, Morgan," he replied. Honestly, he had no idea. Long since, Robin had determined that anything looked beautiful on his daughter, and so he could provide no objective opinion.

"Father," she scolded, "if you're going to give empty praise, you have to try to say something different every once in a while."

"I think you look lovely in everything, Morgan," he allowed.

"Ugh," she sighed in mock malaise, "very much an answer a girl might receive from her father. I bet you say the same thing to mom, don't you?"

"Would you prefer I called you ugly?" he smirked.

"I would prefer you be honest," she noted.

"Then I think it looks lovely, Morgan," he grinned.

She shook her head dismissively and laughed at her father, "All right, wise guy."

"'Wise guy?'" he feigned indignation, "This 'wise guy' has the authority to ensure you see no dessert for a month, young lady."

"Dessert?" she smiled, "What do you think I am, eight?"

"We could also just forget about the dress shopping," he supposed with a smirk.

"Let's not be hasty," she smiled uneasily, "my wonderful father."

"That's more like it, my darling daughter," he beamed kissing her forehead.

She scolded him again, "Blackmailing your own daughter, who does that?"

"Me, so live with it," he touted.

Rolling her eyes, she shook her head again, "Thank you, though, for taking me out here. I can't imagine this is exactly riveting for you. To say nothing of the cost…"

"It warms my heart to see you so concerned, Morgan, but you needn't worry. Any daughter of mine deserves whatever clothes she cares to have, and I'm fortunate to be able to spend time with her," he declared.

"I think that was what Severa said to guilt her parents into a shopping trip, once," Morgan noted.

Robin patted his daughter's back, "Well, for my account, it's the truth."

"I love you, father," she hugged him.

"You too, sweetheart," he reciprocated. Digressing, he pulled at the dress she held, "So, you like this one?"

"Love it to pieces," she beamed, fondling the fabric.

"Then let's go get it paid for," he draped an arm over her shoulder and walked her away.

"Father?" she wondered allowed in stride.

"Yes, dear?"

"When you decided you were in love with mother, what did you do?" she inquired, mimicking her mother by putting a finger to her chin.

"Married her," he flashed a bright smile.

"Yes, yes," she rolled her eyes, "but when you _first_ realized it, then what? Did you tell anyone? Did you tell her right away?"

"To be honest, Morgan, I was only certain it was love that drove me to your mother when I proposed," he admitted.

"So what was it before, then?" she raised an eyebrow.

"Maybe a compulsive need for self-denigration," he laughed.

"Father," she grew frustrated, "I refuse to believe you weren't in love with mother until you married her!"

"I didn't say I didn't love her before, I just wasn't certain it was love until then," he clarified.

She huffed in irritation, "Did you ever try to discuss your feelings with her? Before Chrom's wedding, that is."

Robin paused a moment to recall, "There was a moment when we were alone in the barracks…"

* * *

"Afternoon, Robin, my boy. Any stock I can interest you in?" the redhead gestured toward her pile of inventory messily adorning the floor of the barracks.

"You know I'm effectively your commanding officer. You oughtn't call me 'boy,'" he dismissed, pulling a chair out at the small table and throwing himself down.

"Sheesh," she admonished, "we're on our 'off' time, Robin. We can speak plainly, can't we? I thought you liked making friends with the Shepherds."

"Friends, sure. The Shepherds, definitely. You, it's always about money and sales," he lamented, the ghost of a smirk pushing on his bottom lip.

"Well, forget you, then," she spat, gathering her things.

"Anna," he held a hand out pensively, "sit. It was only a joke."

"Your jokes are in poor taste," she scolded, pulling a chair away to sit opposite him. "So, what does a tactician talk about on his off time? I bet amnesia makes for a very interesting personal life."

"Not really," he looked away.

"No? But you've got no past; a blank slate! You can be whomever you decide to be!" she noted, wandering to her own thoughts.

"You make it sound like something to be pleased about," he declined, disgruntled, "No past means I have nothing to go on. My work is the only thing I know how to do, I don't have anyone to write to… Sometimes, things can feel… rather devoid of meaning."

"Yikes. Sorry," she made a deadpan apology, "I had no idea. It just seems like it would be nice to not have to worry what anyone else is going to think of you."

"Family trouble?" he guessed.

"My father," she suggested vaguely, "We had a little… falling out. Marriages. I won't bore you with the details."

He could tell this was a topic she wanted to avoid, and so, digressed, "Any big sales today?"

"You sure know how to get a girl back in the right mood," she smiled at him, "A bunch, but I'll tell you about those later. Right now, I thought of something I wanted to ask you."

"Well, go on," he gestured forward with his hand.

"Are there any lady Shepherds you have your eyes on?" she wondered with an impish grin.

He blushed, "I'm not sure I understand you."

"Are you romantically interested in any of the girls here, Robin?" she elaborated.

"N-No," he dismissed, "That would be unprofessional, putting biases on my strategic thinking and giving preferential treatment to…"

"Aw, forget that," she waved her hand, "There must be someone here you find attractive."

"Certainly, there are a lot of beautiful women among the Shepherds, but that's not my focus. I have to look past everyone and see the potential strategy behind each individual unit," he explained dutifully.

She smiled deviously again, "So who do you think is beautiful?"

He blushed and moved to stand, "I don't have time for this."

"Hey, hey," she halted him, "No judgment here, I'm just curious."

"And why do you want to know these sort of things, anyway?" he wondered.

She coughed into her palm, "No reason, just like to be able to dispel rumors for myself."

"There are… rumors about me?" he asked.

"Sure thing. You're the biggest enigma of all of us, so it's no wonder everyone and their brother has their theories about you," she nodded.

"People actually opine about who might be the subject of my affection?" he submitted incredulously.

"Exactly, and one of those people wants to know the whole truth, right from the horse's mouth," she slapped her palm on the table, "Sit."

He complied, "Look, I hate to burst your incredibly weird bubble, but I don't really have anyone among the Shepherds I'm interested in."

"Outside the Shepherds, then?" she guessed.

"Frankly, I've never been outside the Shepherds," he put a hand to his forehead.

She gave a small smile, "Well that's a crying shame. There's a lot to see out there. You ought to explore a little when this war with Plegia's all over."

"I plan to," he mimicked her smile, revisiting his travel plans in his mind.

"All right, look: there has to be someone here you like most of all, who would that be?" the redhead insisted.

He shook his head, "No one. I treat everyone the same. No preferences."

"No, no way," she dismissed, "that's not human. There has to be _some_ person among our number you like better than the others."

He sighed with frustration, glancing at the ceiling, "Cordelia's quite pretty, isn't she? The elegant stance, the genius aptitude, and, call me crazy, but there's something about the color of her hair that I love."

"C-Cordelia, huh?" Anna braced herself and endeavored not to frown, "W-What makes her so great?"

He shrugged, "I don't know. She seems nice, even-tempered, caring… did I mention pretty?"

"You did," Anna managed with gritted teeth, "So, you like Pegasus knights, is that it?"

"What?" he smirked confusedly, "No, I said I like _Cordelia_."

"Who is a Pegasus knight," Anna repeated.

He continued to be perplexed, "What do you mean? Just because I'm interested in one person doesn't mean I feel the same about everyone remotely similar."

"All right, fine, whatever, but why Cordelia?" Anna insisted.

"Didn't you just ask me that?" he shook his head.

She rapped a fist off the table, "Just tell me. It seems like it has to be the Pegasus and the armor. That's it, right?"

"No," he denied, "Do you really think me so superficial? I like her personality. And her hair."

"What about her hair?" Anna noticed.

"I don't know," his eyebrows raised into a grin, "there's something about that ruby-red color that I can't drag my eyes away from."

"Red hair…" Anna considered, playing with her ponytail a moment.

"Yes, a fun, spontaneous, occasionally irritating, sharp-witted, caring girl with ruby-red hair. That's the Shepherd I like best of all," he surmised with a knowing smile.

"Are we still talking about Cordelia?" Anna hoped.

"I need to get back to work," Robin winked, picking himself up.

* * *

The little redheaded girl blew a raspberry with her tongue, "That was it? I was hoping for a gushy confession."

"That came when I proposed," he patted her back, "Besides, since when is your father the, er, 'gushy' type?"

"Since he married my mother and had a daughter," she suggested slyly, wrapping her arm around his.

"Maybe so," he concluded airily, "Are you going to wear your new dress home?"

"No, it'll get all dirty. I'll put it on at home and surprise mother when she returns," she grinned, running her hand along the soft fabric again.

"Good girl," he praised, "I think I'll go pay your mother a visit. Will you be all right walking home alone?"

"We're fifteen minutes away, father," she rolled her eyes, "I'll be fine." He nodded to her and began to walk away, back into the crowd of market stalls, customers' yelling and screaming, bustling and bellowing, all reaching a fever pitch as he slipped and dove his way through the madhouse crowd, as he had become forcibly accustomed. Trudging his way forward, he found his wife, scarlet ponytail bobbing as her head whipped to either side to attend to the crowd. Holding his breath, with one last dodge, Robin slid over to his wife in at the stall.

"Need a hand?" he asked.

"I need about a dozen, but you're all I've got," she smiled, though she was visibly distressed by the clamor. He helped her as she took items from the shelves and stacked up the payments, dropping her profits into the impractically large sack she was so fond of.

"Do you never tire of all this?" Robin wondered as he felt his spine aching, picking up and setting down a heavy wooden crate.

"Some days, I used to," she smirked, "until I got some help to do all the heavy lifting."

Gradually, the crowd filtered away, and the pair, exhausted, sweating, each leaned back to recline of the counter that sat in front of the stall. Taking a handkerchief and wiping the sweat from his brow, Robin stood before his wife and stared at her with an evaluative eye.

"If you're undressing me with your eyes, you could just wait until we get home. I'm definitely going to need a change of clothes with this heat…" she supposed absentmindedly.

"No… Anna!" he found himself indignant, "Of course I wasn't… I've never done that to you in my life. Never needed to. At any rate, I was just making sure you were holding up all right."

"What do you mean? You think I'm that old already?" she smirked at him, "I'm no spring chicken, but I'm not about to keel over any time soon, either."

"I know that," he sighed, "I'm sure you'll be fine for yourself, but… recent developments have me a little extra concerned."

She patted her stomach, "Maybe I'm a little worn out."

"Let's get you two home," he suggested, draping an arm over her shoulder. She did the same and leaned into him as they trudged their way back to the house.

* * *

He placed an arm around her back and helped her in, at which point she dismissed him, "Go on. I can still walk, thank you." He bowed in deference and stepped away.

"Mother!" cheered a voice from within. At once, the little redhead sprung forward with a shimmering scarlet dress that was stark amid the rather plain walls of the house. "What do you think?" she asked, grabbing the fabric provocatively.

"You look beautiful, dear. Red suits you," she nodded happily, admiring her daughter.

"I modeled it after the most beautiful woman in all the world," she noted excitedly, showing off a pair of yellow patterns at each side.

"Thanks, kiddo. You sure know how to make your mom feel better," Anna smiled, kissing her daughter's forehead.

"Are we hungry?" Robin asked from another room.

"Starved," Anna and her daughter replied simultaneously.

"I had beef stewing all day today. Come have some," he beckoned. The redheaded duo bounded after the sound of his voice. Shortly, the family was seated and all parties tore into the food, polishing it off quickly, with Morgan licking her plate clean first. "And here I thought I was uncouth in eating so quickly," Robin chuckled, putting away the last morsel from his plate.

"I could go for a nap," Anna breathed with contentment, patting her stomach, "It'll help my digestion for the kid."

"Me too. But I need a story to fall asleep," Morgan agreed. The girls stared up to Robin.

He rolled his eyes and stood, "Come on, you layabouts. If you're going to nap, you might as well do it in a bed." Anna pecked her husband on the cheek as they stood. When the family had all settled in to rest, he asked, "And what shall I speak of today, Morgan?"

"I remember mom sort of glossed over the conversation you had where you threatened to throw her out. Can I hear about that one?" Morgan pleaded.

"Your mother and father weren't very nice to each other that night, Morgan," he cautioned with a furrowed brow, "Are you sure you want to hear about that?"

"It's important to your relationship, so, yes," she resolved.

* * *

The tactician gripped the sides of his head firmly, pausing only to rake a hand through his hair. The day had gone about as terribly as could have been imagined. Despite recruiting a new ally and besting Gangrel's forces, the Mad King had still managed to send Emmeryn to her death. Naturally, Chrom and Lissa were distraught, Chrom barely willing to speak to anyone, himself included, despite their friendship. Now the night was wearing on and the tactician needed a plan. Something, anything. He grasped futilely in his minds for any solution that might come. Though he couldn't bear to admit it, Ylisse's new master tactician was out of ideas. At once, there came a rustling at the tent flaps outside. "Out," he commanded, in no mood.

"And a good evening to you, too," he recognized the voice of the redheaded woman as she sauntered to his desk.

"Now's not the time. Out," he repeated, moving a hand to brush a fallen lock of hair out of his face.

"I could see the candlelight from outside. Why are you still awake?" she asked, undaunted.

"Anna, I mean it," he insisted, "Not now."

"You look tired. Talking might make you feel better," she suggested.

"There's nothing to talk about," he surmised, "I failed. Now I have to try to salvage the situation before things devolve any further."

"Failed? I know it was a rough day, but you did your best, Robin. You couldn't have predicted what would happen out there. No one could," she consoled.

"Even if no one could, it was my job," he slammed a fist onto the table, "It's my fault."

She frowned in distaste and put her hand over his, "Do you hear yourself? 'Your fault' for not being able to defend against the indefensible? Stop beating yourself up and get back on that horse."

"That's what I'm trying to do. Now, leave," he commanded once more.

"Robin, stop it," she commanded in a clear tone, "You're tired and frustrated. You'll never be able to concoct a cogent plan at this pace."

"Don't tell me what I can and can't do," he hissed back.

"I'm concerned for your health, Robin!" she shoved him, "Please, if not for your sake, then for mine, rest yourself a bit."

"I couldn't find rest now if I tried," he dismissed, still poring over the page in front of him.

She rubbed his shoulder delicately, "Give it a go. I think you'll manage."

"I can't, Anna," he stated more plaintively, "I have to do… something. I have to… be ready… to make up for…"

"Oh, for the love of Naga," she chided him, "Robin, Emmeryn's dead! Nothing can change that! I know it's painful to all of us, but risking your own health just to grasp at ghosts isn't going to do anyone any favors, now get your sorry ass out of this chair and off to bed before I chain you down there!"

He whipped into a standing stance, and with a wickedness about his eyes Anna had never seen before, he grasped both of her shoulders. She was unsettled by his gruff tone as he stared at her and growled, "Let me be clear: you do not control me. Take your worthless gods-damned opinions elsewhere before I throw your sorry ass out of here for trying to command a superior officer."

A single tear rolled down Anna's cheek, "Sweet dreams to you too, you bastard," she ripped herself from his grip and marched out of the tent.

The tactician's head fell back onto his desk and into his hands as he rubbed his eyes in frustration, and his gloves grew wet.

Morning followed before long, and, despite herself, Anna appeared at the tactician's tent again, and allowed herself in, as before. She saw therein roughly what she had expected: Robin's face sat on its side in a pool of ink and papers strewn about the desk. Sighing, she pulled up the spare chair the tactician kept and rubbed his back. Slowly, she began to hum as she heard the rhythm of his slow breathing.

* * *

Rousing himself from the story, Robin realized he was also hearing slow breathing. He smiled warmly as he stared at his daughter, who had wedged herself comfortable between her father and sleeping mother, the latter of who held her husband and gripped the entire family together in a loose embrace. "So much for a little nap," he chuckled to himself, settling into the embrace, "Goodnight, my darling daughter and faithful foil."


	6. Selling Point

Anna's mouth parted into a breathless yawn as her eyes opened, and she leaned forward into a sitting position as pale daylight filtered in through the bedroom's window. Rubbing her eyes, she turned to find her daughter, hair a complete mess, clutching her father's side with a contented expression painted on her face. Looking over, she noticed that he was also awake, as he shifted his gaze up to his wife. "Don't you have to get going?" she whispered.

"I didn't want to wake either one of you up," he smiled, looking to his daughter's sleeping face.

"Very chivalrous, but I think it's about time we got our rears in gear," she contributed, laying a hand on Morgan's shoulder.

"Five more minutes…" the smaller redhead pleaded sleepily.

Her father laughed and drew himself up from the bed, stretching his arms and cracking his neck as he stood. "Will you be all right by yourself, then?" he asked, taking his wife's hand as she got up and walked around the bed to him.

"Of course," she dissuaded, patting her stomach, "Junior here might have thrown me for a loop on day one, but I'm back at the top of my game."

"'Junior?'" Morgan repeated, swiping the bangs out of her face, "You're not going to call her that, are you? She has to be named Morgan!"

"Just a nickname, sweetie," her mother consoled.

"I'll be back this evening, by sunset," Robin assured his wife, having now taken both her hands.

"Don't stay out too late with your drinking buddies, Mister Man," she teased, ruffling his hair.

"I wish," he lamented, kissing her on the lips, then his daughter on the cheek before bidding them both farewell.

"Aw… you guys are so sweet it almost makes me sick," Morgan grinned, hopping off the bed.

Anna stared at her daughter, "Was that a compliment?"

"Who knows?" she giggled, traipsing into the hallway.

"Where are you going?" Anna called after her.

"To get dressed," she replied, "and fix my hair. I can't tend the stall looking like this."

Anna smiled to herself. The little girl had her father's work ethic and her mother's aesthetic sense.

"…And if you lay the food out in a wicker basket, or something similar, people will be more likely to perceive it as fresh," Anna instructed, gesturing to the front of the stall.

"Mother, did you ever practice as a thief?" Morgan inquired.

Anna's eyes widened, "Well, now, why would you ask something like that?"

"It's just… You like money, you know how to pick locks… I know how to pick locks… I thought maybe…" Morgan supposed, kicking the dirt carelessly.

Anna chuckled uneasily and dismissed, "Well… a girl's gotta have her secrets, right? It's not that important, hon. Just a little extra talent your mom picked up to slap on the ol' resume."

"Do you think that's what made father recruit you?" Morgan pressed on.

"I should certainly hope not," she laughed, "that would be a pretty lackluster ground for the beginning of a relationship."

"Did you like it with the Shepherds?" Morgan changed the subject.

"It was all right, I guess?" Anna stared into space, "Why do you ask? You were there with me, after all."

"I was thinking about before I showed up. Father doesn't like to talk about battle much… Ever get in any close shaves?" Morgan wondered excitedly.

"Not much, given my expertise," she touted, "Though… there was one instance… Er, never mind."

"Aw, you can't do that," Morgan pouted, "What happened?"

"I don't like to think about it," Anna managed, suddenly quite reserved.

"Please?" Morgan's eyes widened to an impossible size and shimmered.

"You've gotta tell me how you do that, kiddo," she shook her head, "Fine, it was…"

"Damned brigands. Will they never leave us be?" Chrom scolded, clenching his fist.

"Relax, Chrom. Let's get focused," Robin insisted, surveying the village ahead.

"So what's the plan, Strategy Man?" Anna rested her head on her palm.

"Anna, don't you have something else to do?" Robin asked irritably.

"Thought you ought to know, I can help take care of all those locked doors for you," she resounded, producing a key and swinging it around her finger.

"Right, right," he nodded, "You're a thief."

"More of a locksmith," she corrected, "and a Trickster, if you want to get really technical."

"Whatever you would have me call you, you can get the job done, then. Fine. I'll entrust you to travel through the locked homes, help us flank the brigands. You can work with Gaius," Robin surmised, sizing up the village again.

"The candy-crazed nutball? Wouldn't we be better served to have the tactician involved in the flanking, rather than the straight assault? Don't fret; big strong Anna can keep you safe during the attack, tactician-boy," she suggested with a smirk.

"I thought about that, but, running the numbers, you're in more danger in a frontal assault than I am," he returned.

"What's the matter," she chuckled, "scared a lady's gonna show you up?"

"Scared a lady's going to be in over her head and get herself hurt," he denied her, "You'll flank alongside Gaius. That's an order."

"Fine, fine," she frowned, "whatever you say, chief."

The battle broke out quickly, and the Shepherds were upon the opposing faction with marginal success. The initial assault broke into the ranks of axe-toting brawlers quickly, dispatching the weakest and wounding those of slightly sterner mettle. Eventually, however, the press was slowed to a crawl by the advancing of even more durable units, who seemed to scoff at the stroke of a blade. Anna, meanwhile, had begrudgingly set upon the locked houses, where several of the invaders had rounded up civilians. Anna and her partner swatted most of them like flies, rescuing the wayward common folk until they arrive at the house closest to the fighting that had come from the frontal assault.

"Wanna slow down a sec, Red? I could use a little chocolate break," the thief panted, several paces behind her.

"The name's 'Anna,' sugar-boy, and I don't know about you, but I'd rather help to make sure Robin, Chrom, and all the others don't get slaughtered than stuff my face," she chided.

"Fine, then," he growled, "I'll go over to the other side of the street. I can't work like this!"

"Whatever," she waved him off, then smirked, "And don't be so sour, bonbon-brain."

Anna set about dispatching the lock. It was simple, routine, the easy stuff. Anna chuckled internally, she as getting so little practice here, she might even be getting worse. A turn of the wrist, a click, and the tumbler sounded… Done! Anna pulled the lock off and kicked the door in, expecting to find, as she had before, one clueless, muscle-bound imbecile clumsily grasping some poor girl by the neck. Instead, she started when she discovered she was surrounded by five of the hulking beasts, each with a vicious grin adorning his face.

"Well, bugger me. Look what we gots 'ere," snarled one, "A little tart come what to keep us wolves fed."

Anna reached for her sword, but quickly found her arms indisposed as a pair of the brigands held her back. "Agh, lemme go!" she shouted at them, "You don't know who you're up against!"

The group laughed insultingly. Anna felt coldness churning in the pit of her stomach as the brigand from before leered at her, "It's been a li'l while since me an' the lads 'ad such a pretty girl all to ourselves…"

"Don't!" she pleaded, "I can make it worth your while, guys! I'm totally loaded, just put me down a sec, and…"

"'Ow dumb do you think we is, lass?" he came within an inch of her face, then placed his finger under her chin, "Eheheh… You're roight adorable, luv."

Anna reacted the only way she could. Surpassing the initial disgust, she struggled forward and bit his finger, "Out of your league, big-and-brainless." She felt demonstrably less confident when she realized she hadn't managed to free herself.

"Agh," he flailed his hand in pain, "Sodding bitch. Just kill 'er lads. It'll be more fun."

Anna struggled again and managed to kick her leg loose, striking one brigand in the face. She caught the other at her leg almost as quickly, while he was stunned, and slipped out of the grasp of the other two by bounding for the door. Now prepared, she resumed her stance, blade in tow, and sliced at the enraged beasts as they poured out of the house. Still, they had the advantage in numbers, and one cut into Anna's side with a broad swing of the axe. With a rush of searing pain, she collapsed. She gritted her teeth and tried, to no avail, to move her leg as the brigand loomed over her. She shut her eyes as she felt a warm spurt of blood splash onto her face.

Then her eyes wrenched open when she realized it wasn't her own. "Agh!" cried Robin, the axe tracing a line parallel to his shoulder blade. He swept the brigand's feet out from underneath him, then leapt onto the man with ferocity Anna had never seen before, tearing into the man with his blade. Anna watched as he stuck the brigand's chest, over and over, his grunts resounding over the wretch's screams, until, eventually, Robin's face and arms were painted with scarlet blood. "Chrom!" he called, falling, "Anna… needs help." His head dropped into the grass.

Robin sat up in the tent he recognized as the medical tent, grasping his head. He rubbed his face, feeling sore all over his body.

"Oh, sorry," he recognized Anna's voice as her face peeked through the tent flap, "I didn't know you were undressed." She didn't move. She cursed herself, but she stared lasciviously at his chest, his entire midsection and shoulder adorned by bandages. He was cut, damn him.

"Undressed," he repeated, looking to his legs, relieved to note that he was still wearing pants, "Oh, it's fine."

"May I?" she inquired, gesturing at the tent flap.

"Sure, come in," he allowed, waving her through. "Are you all right, Anna? Have you been sleeping?" he noted the bags under her eyes, not typical of the merchant girl. She was certainly one to get her beauty sleep.

"I'm fine," she dismissed, touched, if not incredulous that he gave a damn about her sleep, given his current state, "I'm more worried about you. How are you holding up?"

He placed a hand on his shoulder, and, though she could see him wince, he smiled and rotated it, "I've had worse."

"You are so full of it," she laughed weakly, "I haven't been able to sleep for days, worrying about you, and now you're making a joke of it…"

He watched tears well into her eyes, "I'm sorry, Anna. I didn't mean to upset you. I appreciate that you were so concerned, I was only hoping to—"

"Not that," she wiped her face with her sleeve, clearing her throat, "J-Just… don't go getting hurt like that again, okay?"

"Only if you'll promise to do the same, for my sake," he smirked.

"You… You weren't worried about me, were you?" she wondered, thinking back.

"I… wouldn't want any of my friends hurt," he concluded, looking away, "Seeing that bastard attack you… I don't know, it triggered something for me. Anyway, if you leave, who the hell else can I talk to around here?"

"That's true," she smirked. Rapping her fingers on her chin, she asked, "Now, really, how do you feel?"

They stared at one another for a moment before Robin lay his head back down onto the cot, "…A little lightheaded."

"Want me to leave you to rest?" she inquired.

"No," he smiled, "I find a better cure is… pleasant conversation." He winced again, "And maybe a little tea for my nerves."

"All right, I see your strategy, Mr. Tactician," she touted, "Lucky for you I'm happy to take care of you until you're all healed."

"Thank you, Anna," he sighed, "You're always so kind to me, and in return I ordered you to your death."

"Don't be ridiculous," she smiled, "I had 'im right where I wanted 'im."

"Now who's full of it?" he smirked.

"Then I guess I was lucky to have a great protector like you around," she concluded airily.

He shut his eyes, "That settles it. From now on, you and I are sticking together in combat."

She laughed, then looked at him, trying to ascertain if he was serious, "You mean, like, always? You want to be… beside me all the time?"

"Sure," he declared, pleased, "We have a remarkable parity, Anna, there's no denying we're at our best when we fight together. Plus, I couldn't bear to think of seeing you hurt again."

"So, you want to stand at my side always, to have and to hold, and are concerned about my health and well-being? This is starting to sound like a different kind of proposal altogether, Robin," she giggled.

He blushed and looked up to her, "Uh… I didn't mean it quite like that. I was only saying… er, what I meant was that…"

"Relax," she giggled again, "I was just pulling your leg. I know what you meant, and I'd be happy to have so fierce a defender at my side."

"That's good," he breathed with relief.

"'Good?'" she cocked an eyebrow.

"Yes… It's, er, good, isn't it? That we can help each other like that, as friends?"

She laughed outright, "Yeah, Robin… It's good."

He rolled his eyes and smirked self-deprecatingly as she laughed at him, then shut his eyes again, "Gods… I'm tired, but my back is killing me."

"You know," Anna mused, poring over the tactician, who was sprawled out on the cot on the floor, "I've been told I give a killer back rub."

"I would be so grateful…" his grin was stretched with fatigue. He rolled onto his stomach and sighed contentedly as the merchant girl's soft fingers began to caress his burdened shoulders.

"What was so bad about that?" Morgan asked as her mother finished, "It was really cute and sweet at the end."

"The end's not the part that gets me, dear," Anna discerned.

"Oh, I see," Morgan realized, "it was when father was attacked. You were convinced he was dead, weren't you?"

"Were I not so tired in that moment, I might have screamed in agony, rushing over him and sobbing as I endeavored desperately to tend to his wounds" Morgan's mother admitted.

"Do you think he knows that?" Morgan asked the ceiling.

"I'm sure he does… He made good on his promise: not a battle went by that he wasn't at my back or my side, as I his," she recalled.

"Aw," Morgan cooed, "Father's such a good guy, isn't he?"

"As good a man as ever I've known," Anna confessed. Her daughter giggled into a hum as she finished arranging the massive inventory, prompting her mother to ask, "What's so funny, young lady?"

"Nothing, mom," the little redhead smiled, "Just glad you found your knight in shining armor."

"Your father is hardly a paragon of-" Anna began sarcastically.

"Oh, knock it off and just accept it, you love him," Morgan shushed her.

"I suppose I do," Anna admitted, a smile on her face.

"Do you think he knows that?" asked Morgan, who never let a question drop.

* * *

"Aw..." Anna giggled, tracing her finger down the weathered page carefully.

"What's that you're reading, Anna?" inquired a voice from on high. She raised her head to greet the eyes of the tactician, who was smiling uncharacteristically.

"My family's logbook. I was reading about one of my sisters on a different continent and her boyfriend and later husband, Jake. A cute couple, they were," she recounted, fondling the page.

"So you Anna sisters do get married," Robin thought out loud.

"Well, of course. We can't have the family just end," she noted.

"But suppose you have a child that isn't an Anna?" Robin wondered.

"I've never known that to happen," she denied, not looking up from her book.

"...So," the tactician digressed, "What was this 'Jake' like?"

"A bit of a roguish sort," Anna mused, looking back over the handwritten scrawl, "but as sweet and caring a lover as any man. It's clear he loved my sister like it was the last thing he would ever do."

"As should any husband," Robin remarked to the merchant girl's deaf ears.

Suddenly, the redhead slapped the book shut and crossed her arms, "Why can't I find someone like that?"

"Anna?" Robin was surprised to find her so taken with the romance.

She stood with the book in hand and lamented, "Every man I've ever met only cared about this," she slapped her open palms vaguely about her hips, proximally to her rear, "or this," she jingled the incessant pouch of coins on her belt.

"Surely you don't think that about every man you've met," Robin hoped.

Her passion blinded her to his hurt expression, "Oh no, it's every last one. I can't just find a man to love me for me... All I've got are perverts and money-grubbers. Where's my inauspicious hero with a heart of gold who loves me with his all?" Robin's lips parted, but she continued to ignore him, "I'll never find my Jake. I'll just be alone and bitter, all my life." She pouted visibly with her bottom lip.

"It doesn't have to be like that..." Robin supposed for her.

"Oh? And who's going to change it? You?" she spat in a blur of frustration.

"Well, I could-"

"A few pretty words and a smiling face aren't enough to change this girl's story, Robin," Anna lamented, "I need a real man to show me some real affection."

Only now did she notice the deep frown on his face. She stared at his eyes, gripped with a deadness as though she had driven a stake through him. "Naturally," he managed gruffly.

"Is something wrong?" she wondered absentmindedly.

"No. I should be getting back to work," he decided.

"Was there something you needed?" she asked again.

"My questions were answered," she had been staring back at the log, but lifted her head to spy a bundle of yellow flowers fall to the earth, absent the tactician.

Her eyes widened in realization as she parted from her internal monologue. She called after him, "Robin, I didn't mean it! I didn't mean you, so much as..." She sighed. He likely wasn't listening, even if he could hear her.

* * *

"So why did you hold out hope?" Chrom asked, sipping down the last of his glass of wine.

"I didn't," Robin laughed, "Right up to your wedding, I had a suspicion that everything she was doing was some kind of elaborate, sick joke?"

"And when did that change?" the Exalt pressed.

"When I found a yellow rose pressed into her log on the same page," the tactician smiled fondly. He and the Exalt sat and gathered their thoughts for a moment before the tactician declared, "But enough talk. Look at you, sitting on your ass, sipping wine, listening to stories, the people would be within their rights to revolt!"

"Oh, piss off," the Exalt smiled.

"I should love to," Robin quipped, "I'd like to see my family, and I've needed a piss since before I started telling this story."

"Goodnight, you damned clown," the Exalted shooed him away.


	7. Deposit

"Moonlighting again, eh?" Robin shut his eyes as he heard the voice he had become so accustomed to approach him. She met his side and threw herself down into the grass with him, "Busy out here?"

"No, thankfully," he resolved with a smile.

"And look at you, grinning like a Cheshire cat! What's with you now?" she giggled.

"Aren't you pleased that the war is over?" he asked.

"Of course. It's good to be at peace again, I can jack my weapon prices up without feeling bad," she noted to the sky.

"That can't be the only thing you're thinking about," he lamented.

"…Why?" she wondered, "What were you thinking?"

He rolled his eyes, "Maybe about two or three nations' worth of people who don't have to fight and die anymore."

"Oh," she stammered, "Of course, I'm glad about that, too. I thought that went without saying."

"Mm-hm," he surmised snidely.

She shook her head and rolled her eyes to denote her lack of comment. She ran her hands through the grass a moment, feeling its supple dew on her skin before raising a new line of inquiry, "So, what about you?"

"What about me?" he echoed.

"Use your head, genius," she rapped her knuckles on his temple, "War's over. What good is a strategist now?"

"A fair point," it was clear by his tone that Robin didn't know either, "Chrom has promised me asylum in the castle here in Ylisstol for as long as I need…"

"Have you seen that guy?" Anna chuckled, "His whims change on the drop of a hat. I wouldn't count on that welcome lasting forever."

"I don't," Robin reassured himself.

"So then," the redhead smiled mockingly, "does our master tactician have a plan for outside of war, too?"

"I suppose I'll need a job…" he suggested aloud.

"That you will," she contributed uselessly.

Pausing, he turned to her, "Does that mean you have a suggestion?"

Her eyes widened and she turned her head away, "No. Uh, I dunno. That's… who knows?" Regaining her composure, she restated, "No, no suggestions here."

"None at all?" he pressed.

She writhed under the grin he wore that told her he knew what she was thinking, "Uh, nope… nothing." She joked nervously, "What kind of job could you do, anyway?"

"I'm not sure," he admitted, "I don't really have any skills that aren't combat-related… That I know of."

She laughed more confidently, "Good luck, then."

"Maybe I'll try retail," he pointed, "that definitely doesn't take much presence of mind."

"All right, arsehole," she stood indignantly.

"Sit," he commanded, "I was only making a joke. I didn't mean anything by it, Anna."

She stuck her tongue out at him, "Of course you didn't, you don't even have the wit to avoid insulting a girl who can see you paying extra for all your life."

"Guilty as charged," he held up his hands, "But, to my credit, my next closest friend could have me beheaded for insulting him."

She laughed quickly, "I guess I can see that reasoning."

"Are you letting me have something? What's gotten into you today?" he smiled again.

"Ugh," she rolled her eyes, "I can't stand to see you smile anymore. It always means you're trying to be clever, and you're always wrong."

"Aw," he lamented ironically, wiping his palm over his face, "You mean you wouldn't miss this?"

"I wouldn't miss it if I was throwing a punch," she added.

He scoffed contentedly, "Oh, forget it. You can't hurt me tonight, I feel too good. Look at the stars out there. Don't they seem to shine just a bit brighter on a night like this?"

"Mama always used to say 'Whenever stars are most aglow, in there is much joy, I trow. And when the next day's sun is low, luck be unto you, I know,'" Anna recited with a quick rhythm.

"I like it," Robin applauded earnestly, "Does that mean I ought to thank my lucky stars I'm here with you?"

She blushed, "Robin, what are you saying?"

He raised an eyebrow in surprise at her surprise, "That I'm happy to have my greatest friend here with me on the happiest night of my life. Is that strange?"

She shook her head, smiling broadly, amused by his obliviousness "No, nothing strange. That's all very sweet of you to say, Robin."

"Then why do you seem so…?" he gestured meaninglessly to his face with his hands.

"Hush," she put a finger over his lips, "Let's go ahead and thank those stars for this moment… And for many more to come, just like this one."

"That, I can agree to," he surmised, lifting his head to the stars as they sat side by side in the sparkling grass.

* * *

"Oh my GODS!" the little redhead's eyes sparkled, wide as dinner plates, "You said that to each other by starlight?! That's so cute I think I'm gonna die!"

"Please don't," her mother quipped, rubbing the back of her neck, "Your father would never forgive me."

"Oh, it's so adorable, I can't take it!" she swooned. "By starlight!" she repeated, before imitating gagging noises.

"I'm starting to get the sense that you're making fun of your mom, kid," Anna scowled as her daughter flew from each side of the room, grasping at her throat.

She stopped in the middle of the floor, "Of course not! I love you, mom! I just can't get over how sweet you and dad were together; it's like a little girl's dream: my parents are the only romance stories I'll ever need!"

"Except they aren't stories," Anna noted, "they happened, and they're part of who your father and I are."

"Uh-huh," Morgan nodded, "and I love 'em!"

Anna laughed good-naturedly. If this was to be the extent of her daughter's quirks, well… she could live with that. "C'mon, it's about time for us to start heading back."

"Mother?" Morgan asked.

"Yes, honey?"

She pressed her index fingers together, "We don't get to do a lot of mother-daughter shopping. Can you help me pick out a dress?"

"Didn't you just get a new dress the other day?" Anna recalled.

Her daughter's eyes shifted to each side, "Yeah… but…"

Watching her a moment, Anna comprehended what her daughter seemed afraid to say, "Well, sure thing, honey. You need that little feminine touch to your clothes that ol' dad can't provide, huh? We'll find you something. Come away, I know a good tailor who owes me a couple of favors…"

* * *

"Hi, Chrom!" the redhead bounced into the room.

His brow shifted, "Oh, er, good morrow, Morgan. Where is your father?"

"At home," she remarked plainly.

"…Then why are you here?" the Exalt wondered.

She pressed her finger to her cheek and cleared her throat, "What did daddy say? He can't come in today because, 'Both Anna and I are feeling ill and in need of a respite, but I feel confident that Morgan can help you to accomplish whatever need you had of me today.'" She extended her hand with a giggle, "Pleased to be doing business with you, Exalt Chrom."

He took it, "…er, likewise."

"So, what's on the agenda for today, boss?" she saluted eagerly.

"Well," Chrom mused, "you're already more deferential than your father. At any rate, today we're to discuss the flow of weapons trade through the country, and to discuss ordinances for the construction of new marketplaces interested in selling those sorts of armaments, among a few other types of shops. I had hoped your father would be able to deliver a salient comment on the status of socioeconomic conditions in Ylisse, as well as speculate to the demand for weaponry and the question of its legality given the end of the war…"

"Uhh," Morgan yawned, "I'm not gonna lie, Chrom: that sounds _so_ boring…!"

"Yes, well," he chuckled, "as your father and I have discovered, leading a nation is about ninety-eight percent boring stuff. For whatever reason, though, he seems to live for all this damned paperwork."

"Nuh-uh," she rebutted, "he complains about paperwork every day when he comes home."

"Really?" the Exalt's brow rose with interest.

"Sure. But, I guess that makes sense, doesn't it? To act different around one's boss," she speculated.

The exalt paused and evaluated the girl a moment before posing, "Morgan… what do your mother and father talk about at home?"

She raised an eyebrow, "I don't know, lots of things. Why do you ask?"

"To be honest, I'm just curious as to exactly how different your father is from when he's here," Chrom admitted.

"Oh," Morgan considered, "Hm…"

"It's fine if you'd rather not—"

"Oh!" she jumped, "I can tell you a story they told me about before I was born. Which, I guess, is still technically now, but…" She shook her head, confused by the whole subject, "I mean before I joined the Shepherds. This me. Right here."

"I see…" Chrom thought, "Well, if you wouldn't mind, I suppose I should like to hear it."

"Let's see…" she cleared her throat, "How did it go again? I think it started with…"

* * *

Anna yawned broadly and sighed aloud. It had been quite a long day, and she was more than ready to retire from it. The sun was setting quickly, the last traces of light fading from beyond the hill, but Anna wouldn't need the dark of night to coax herself to sleep tonight. Before she could make the short walk to her tent, she decided on a quick detour with a small smile about her face. Stepping quietly, she brought herself to the threshold of the tactician's tent and parted the flap, peeking her head inside. She noticed the difference in the area immediately: candles were out, she couldn't see the tactician, and an open bottle or two adorned the floor messily. She shook her head in disbelief and walked into the tent to find the young man huddled miserably onto his cot, his eyes tightly shut. "Uh… Robin?" she called. His only response was a short breath. "Robin," she called again, "are you okay? Can you hear me?" Again, no answer. Rolling her eyes, the merchant sat herself delicately down by the tactician's head and stroked his hair, whispering softly, "Robin? Wakey-wakey, eh, tactician-boy?"

Finally his eyes parted unceremoniously, strained by the scarce light, he cocked an eyebrow at the redhead, "Anna? What are you doing?"

"Nothing," she withdrew her hands hastily, "I was just… checking in on you, that's all."

"I already get enough of Tharja watching me sleep," he coughed, scratching his head.

She assumed indignation, "As if. I was just making sure you weren't dead. I can be on my way, now."

"All right, then," he dismissed.

She stopped in place and faced him, "What? You don't… you don't want me to stay a little longer?"

"No, I'll be fine," he waved her off, "Go on."

"You're sure?" she bit her lip instinctively.

"Positive," he stared at the opposite wall of the tent.

She frowned, "Uh, all right, then. Night, Robin."

"Night," he returned.

She left the tent as softly as she entered and, shrugging her shoulders, began to trudge back to her own tent, the dissatisfaction etched into the creasing of her eyebrows. Before long, she had returned to the small tent that was her own, and reclined into a chair provided to her, examining the pile of goods she had ported with her for this little business venture. Dark was setting in, but, suddenly, Anna no longer felt tired, and so she elected to pick the trinkets out of the pile, one by one, examining each in full, not aware of what she was looking for in each one, but determined that there was something to find. She looked to a pretty, but dulled sword, a pockmarked book, a tarnished silver spoon, and then found a small bear doll. She was amused by the look of the plushy little thing, fondling it in her hand, flailing its limp limbs about for a moment, and shortly after realizing it was quite similar to the cute bit of fluff that adorned her belt. She put them beside the other and smiled, glad she had found a match for her soft, tiny companion.

She started in surprise when Chrom's footfalls made themselves known, "I see you're still awake, Anna."

She placed a hand over her chest, "And barely alive after the scare you gave me! Cough or something, geez!"

"I want to talk about Robin," he announced.

"Don't we all," she resolved enigmatically, returning to her bears.

"Anna, I don't think he's well, and I'm worried for him," the prince supposed.

"So? You're his best buddy, why don't you go check on him?" she breathed.

"Loath though I am to say it," the prince muttered uncomfortably, "I can't exactly provide the… er, charm that a young lady might."

She slapped her open palms on the desk on her thighs and whipped around to face the prince, "What do you want me to do, run in there, blow him a kiss, show him my butt, wink, and scuttle back out, giggling like a schoolgirl? Go away."

"It's not that," Chrom blushed, "I… I just mean to say… well, he's comfortable around you, Anna, more so than me. Surely you can see that."

"And?" she was unconvinced.

"And… Anna, I think he's in a place… where he needs someone who he isn't afraid to be… open with," the blue-haired prince was struggling over his words again.

"And you think that's me, more so than you?" she recounted.

"Yes," he surmised, relieved, "So, will you just go look to him? I would really appreciate it." She stood up, sighing, though inwardly a bit enticed by the opportunity to have another justification to see what was going on with the young tactician. Chrom nodded as she passed him by, and they both parted her tent's flap, diverting in opposite directions. It was another short walk before she was standing in the tent again, facing the young man who now looked utterly pitiful. It was the worst state she had ever seen him in, stroking and scratching at his hair pathologically, another of the bottles she had seen earlier pressed into his lips, his cloak was askew along his shoulders. She stepped forward, surprised he hadn't taken notice of her and dropped to her knees, waving a hand in front of his face.

Only then did the tactician reply, his eyes perceptibly glazed over, "A-Anna? Please don't. G-Go." He flailed his palm at her in an effort to ward her away.

"Oh Robin," she sighed with gently mocking pity, "What have you done?"

"I-I…" he stuttered, "Leave me alone…"

"As I live and breathe," she laughed pityingly, "I never thought I'd find you, of all people, at the bottom of a bottle. I thought you too smart for that, Robin."

"I'm glad you find it so damn funny," he snarled, "now just let this sleeping dog lie."

"Sorry," she recovered, "That was… a bit uncouth. It's just very out of character for you, Robin. I swear I only meant well by it. What has you in such a bad way?"

"It's nothing," he grumbled.

"Wow, you're even obstinate as a drunk. That's an achievement," she lamented.

"Ha-ha," he laughed without humor, "You got your joke in, now leave."

"Do you think I would come all this way for a stupid joke?" she scolded, "I came here for you, Robin. Tell me what's wrong."

"I don't know," he clutched the side of his head, "I don't know. When I sit here, by myself, every night… Gods, I don't know, everything feels so… pointless."

"Most people in your position would say they find meaning in their work," Anna recalled, "and, ordinarily, so would you. Where's all this talk coming from?"

"It's always so damn quiet in here," he submitted.

"Quiet?" she wondered aloud, "Do you mean… you feel lonely?"

"I don't know what I feel," he sighed dryly, "I don't know anything. Forget it. Nobody cares."

"You know I'm here for you," she cupped her hand beneath his chin.

"I… you… How do you mean?" he stuttered, confused.

"Don't be dense, Robin," she rolled her eyes, "I walked out here in the middle of the night to see if you were all right. I guess, one way or another, I have to be concerned about you, don't I?"

"True," resolved the tactician's blank eyes, "Or you could just be patronizing me."

"Okay," she sighed, "I'm gonna do for you what my mother did for me." She produced the small bear she had discovered earlier and shoved it in the tactician's hands.

"What is this for?" he gauged the fluffy creature in his wavering palms.

"Remind you of anything?" she nodded to her belt. The tactician understood and nodded. "So, when you're feeling lonely, clutch that teddy close, or talk to him, or whatever you've got to do. Let it be a reminder that someone is always thinking about you, okay?"

He smiled bitterly, "What a… juvenile solution. I thought about setting this tent on fire tonight, and just laying down. And now you hand me a stuffed bear."

She frowned in stark concern, "Whoa, slow down. I'm just trying to help you feel better. It's not a personal comment."

"Well, thanks," he lamented, "Maybe there'll be one person weeping at my funeral. At least I can pretend like I'm worth something to someone."

"Stop that!" she shook him violently, "Don't you ever say that again, got me? Talk like that again and I'll put you in the ground myself!" He was rendered catatonic and unable to respond. Anna bit back the tears she hadn't noticed welling in her eyes, "Just… don't. Okay? Don't. I don't ever want to hear you talking about… doing that… ever again. You're not dying any time soon, and… a lot of people will be upset if you do. One most especially, who was so worried about you she tried giving you a stupid kid's gift to make you feel better. Whose stomach is twisting in knots while she hears you talking about… ending it. Just stop. Just stop." She repeated the phrase like an accursed mantra, with varying comprehensibility, until she collapsed, bawling, into his arms.

The tactician's face soured, "Anna, I'm sorry. I would never want to upset you. I… think the little bear's quite charming. Cute, that like a child, you would give me one of your favorite toys to cheer me up."

"If you're gonna go on another suicidal tangent, I'm leaving," she sobbed.

"No… I should thank you, Anna. For everything. I'm glad you're willing to go to such ridiculous lengths for me, and I'm sorry I returned your kindness with… insult," he hazarded a hand to her cheek.

She lifted her head in response, "That's what I want to hear."

"No more crying, then," he insisted, wiping away a tear from her face.

"No more melancholy, then," she echoed, staring back plaintively. He nodded and she buried her face into his shoulder. "I care about you, Robin. No matter what, I care, all right?" she insisted.

"I know," his shaking arms held her.

Daylight came, and Chrom walked nonchalantly into the tactician's tent to reassure himself of the young man's safety and to begin the day for them both. He paused, seeing the redhead draped over him, caressing his face, a small stuffed bear wedged between their meeting chests, which heaved in unison, and decided that now might not be quite the appropriate time.

* * *

"I always did wonder what those two were up to that night," Chrom concluded.

"That's not exactly emblematic of father's behavior," Morgan realized, "but I suppose it does characterize his relationship with mother."

"Thank you, Morgan. That was very interesting. Now, what do you say we get down to some work?" the exalt offered.

"Fine," sighed the redhead.


	8. Services Rendered

Anna whistled cheerfully, taking short strides around the camp. It had been overcast most of the day, so a number of the Shepherds refused to exit their tents for fear of rain. Anna never did much mind the rain, though. She found it relaxing, even when it was pouring right onto her head. At any rate, working day in and day out in a hot, cramped market stall while the sun beat down on her brow had taught her to appreciate the calming neutrality of a cloudy day. She could guess there would be one another person in the camp who might share her enjoyment of the darkened day, and so walked briskly toward his tent. But she paused a moment when she heard something from within. Quickly, she recognized it as his voice, but she knew he wasn't speaking. He was making a noise, grunting repeatedly, she discerned. She inhaled deeply, a bit pensive about what she was about to walk in to, then pushed the tent flap open.

"Argh… 47, 48, 49," he counted on the floor.

She wiped her forehead. He had been doing push-ups. "So that's what all that noise was about. What are you up to, Robin?"

He fell to the floor with her first utterance, "Seriously, is it out of the question for you to say something when you barge in like that? I was… in the middle of something."

"I see that," she nodded, "I thought you had already finished your practice for the day."

"I have…" he sighed, "I was just, you know, doing a little extracurricular work."

"And why is that?" she pressed.

"No special reason, I just want to make sure I can keep up, that's all," he dismissed, now fixing his posture, sitting across from the redhead.

"Mm-hm," Anna mused, glaring at him, evaluative, "So, what's her name?"

"Beg pardon?" he raised an eyebrow.

"The girl you're trying to impress, what's her name?" she repeated.

"Honestly, Anna," he scoffed, "you get the strangest ideas. I'm not doing this for any girl, I just want to make sure I'm up to par."

"Up to par, eh? For who?" she continued.

He rolled his eyes and sighed in frustration, "No one, all right? It's just that… next to Chrom and Frederick and Stahl and… hell, even Sully, I feel downright…"

"Inferior?" she punctuated.

"I… didn't say that," he frowned.

"You were thinking it," she surmised.

"Whatever," he huffed, "I don't really need you here making fun of me. Just let me get back to my work."

She rolled her eyes at him and chuckled, "I don't think you'll ever understand how foolish you seem."

"I mean it. If you're just going to joke, you can see yourself out," he directed a finger to the tent flap.

"No, genius," she laughed, "I mean, you feel like you're not up to snuff against guys like Chrom when you're maybe a pace behind in physical strength, meanwhile you're at least two full strides ahead in wit, charisma, and… er, well, you get the idea."

"I appreciate it, but I'm not going to be satisfied until I'm sure I'm at their level, at least," he breathed, determined.

"Fine. If you're so dead-set on this, then maybe I can help. I can show you my special routine that's kept this figure," she rubbed her abdomen proudly, "for about a decade."

He exhaled, examining the floor a moment, the lifted his head, "That… might not be a bad idea."

"Thought you'd like it," she patted his knee, "Tomorrow, by my tent, sunrise. Don't forget." He nodded.

* * *

Robin rubbed his arms quickly in the cold of the early morning, then moved his hand to pull at his rebelling eyes, which refused to remain open. He parted the tent flap carefully, then whispered in, "Anna?"

"Behind you," she announced.

He leapt up, "Honestly, I think you're going to be the death of me."

"Uh-huh. I woke up early for you, you know? Let's get to work," she commanded, "Lie down."

He obeyed, "All right."

"Let's start with some easy ones: Sit-ups, sets of twenty. I'll hold your legs," she directed. He complied, picking himself up repeatedly. Once he had repeated the process ten times with a breather after the fifth, she proceeded, "Now, how about a little morning run?"

"Honestly, it sounds awful, but I'll do what I have to," he lamented.

"Come on," she smiled, jogging in place, "It's not that hard. Honestly, this is my favorite part." He followed her as she ran around the outskirts of the camp. By the time they had returned to their original position, the sun had finally risen in full and was painting the sky pink and orange as they slowed back into the spot by Anna's tent. Robin panted, wiping the sweat from his brow, and flopped down into the grass. "Okay," she grinned, "we're about a quarter of the way through." He let out a distasteful, loud sigh as she commanded him onto his hands and knees for two hundred push-ups.

Determined, finishing the final repetition, he panted, "What's next?"

"Next is the other fun part. Hold this," she handed him a large wooden crate. He rolled his eyes again.

* * *

"Last set," she encouraged, "I'll do it with you!" She lowered herself to the ground on one hand. "Move it, tactician! One! Two! Three! …" she kept counting, focusing on managing her own weight until she heard a thud to her side. She turned to find the tactician, face buried in the grass. She sighed, "Okay. Nice job, Robin. Come on, get up." She shook his shoulder, but the tactician refused to move. A bit distressed, she rolled him over so she could see his eyes, which had closed. She shook him again for certainty, but only worried herself further when he didn't move once more. Quickly, she began to pound on his chest and attempt to slap his face in an effort to wake him. His eyes parted with a series of short breaths, just in time to catch one last slap across the face.

"Ow!" he replied, "Darling, we must stop meeting like this."

"You asshole," she frowned, moving herself away.

"I'm sorry, I just wanted to show you I'm all right," he sighed.

"What happened there?" she insisted.

"I just felt lightheaded, and, suddenly…" he gestured toward the grass.

"What did you eat for breakfast?" she asked.

He rubbed his forehead, "Breakfast?"

"Yes, your morning meal," she rolled her eyes, "What did you eat?"

"Oh, that," he shut his eyes again, "Never had time for it."

"You did all this on an empty stomach?" she railed.

He scratched his neck, "Is that a problem?"

She buried her face in her hands, "How can you be so smart and not know these sorts of things?"

"Figures, though," he lamented, "I still couldn't finish a day of someone else's training routine."

"Would you knock it off?" she shouted, "That's not my training routine! I just do what everyone else does! I was only making that up!"

He turned to face her, "You were? Why?"

She clasped a hand over her mouth, mentally assaulting herself for having let the remark slip, "Er… I wanted to be able to help you, you know?"

He smiled and laughed, "You've always been a little off-kilter, Anna. Thanks regardless, but… what a strange thing to make up."

She laughed quietly, a little irritated by his comment, but happy that he seemed to dismiss it. "Y-Yeah… I know, silly."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd almost say it was like you were looking for an excuse to be around me," he continued laughing.

"Right?" she compounded, "Y-Yeah, that would be… crazy…"

He finished laughing and rubbed his neck a bit more, "Care to get something to eat? All that fainting has made me a bit famished, you know?"

She chuckled alongside him, "Very funny. Sure thing, I'm starving. Know what they're serving in the mess?"

"No, but Sully's not on duty for another week, so my hopes are high," he stood and offered his hand. She took it and they walked off.

* * *

"So, no. If you want to exercise, fine, but you're on your own," Anna concluded.

"Aw, come on, mom," the smaller redhead was disappointed, "it's be so cool: mother and daughter, training together, getting into perfect sync, ready to dominate the world of business!"

"I really never will know where you got such a penchant for dramatics, young lady," her mother laughed softly, "but strength isn't exactly a huge factor in business. I gotta be able to defend the place, sure… but, that's what I have your dad for."

"What?" she growled, "No way! I won't settle for being anything less than father's equal!"

"Neither will I," smirked Anna, "but that doesn't mean I don't let him do the work sometimes."

"Fine… you two can be so boring," pouted Morgan.

Her mother shook her head and smiled, "Speaking of boring, how did your day as substitute whatever-your-dad-is-now go?"

"Well enough… It gets quiet in that big castle when there's no one speaking," Morgan recalled.

"Get a lot of work done?" the merchant continued.

"I tried to. People have awful handwriting around there; my eyes started to hurt after about an hour," she sighed, rubbing her eyes on being reminded of the sensation.

"Welcome to the adult world," her mother grinned.

"Maybe it _would_ be wise to leave these sorts of things to father," the little redhead supposed.

"Yeah," Anna took her daughter by the arm, "Your father's a good guy, taking care of us the way he does."

"By the sound of the stories you've told me, it sounds like he's just starting to get even, what with all the times you've taken care of him," Morgan commented.

"I think we're done here," Anna surmised, scanning the plains around her market stall, "Ready to pack it in?"

"Sure…" Morgan hesitated.

"But?" her mother anticipated her.

"…But… do you have a story for the road?" Morgan smiled.

Her mother sighed, "I guess I can think of something."

Morgan bowed appreciatively, "Yes! And make it a long one, this time! I can't pass any more time counting birds!"

"All right," Anna began walking, staring at the sky, "let's see… I know, on the subject of care, why don't I tell you a little something about your father? See, it started with…"

* * *

"Um… Tharja?" the redhead was pressing her fingers together.

"What do you want?" the dark mage refused to look up.

"Dark mages…" Anna scanned the room, filled to brim with scary sorcery paraphernalia, "You can read people, right? 'Look into their hearts,' or whatever?"

"Yes. Why?" the dark mage replied curtly.

"Do you think you could do that to someone for me?" the merchant wondered.

"And why would I do that?" the raven-haired woman snarled.

"It'd be a big help. Plus, I think we share an interest in this one," Anna determined. If there was one thing she knew, it was haggling.

"Are you asking what I think you're asking?" Tharja finally lifted an eyebrow.

"I was wondering if you could tell me about Robin," Anna nodded.

"No," the dark mage dismissed immediately, "And even if I could, I wouldn't help you."

"Why not?" the merchant scowled.

"You're trying to take my Robin away from me, you… charlatan," the raven-haired girl spat.

"'Your Robin?' I don't think so," Anna growled, then, more softly, "…uh, but you're wrong. I don't… um, that is… I'm not that interested in him."

"Lie to yourself all you want, it's not changing my mind," Tharja decided, lowering her face back to her array of spellcasting instruments.

"Tharja, please… I could really use this. I'm worried about Robin," Anna sighed.

"Worried?" Tharja's eyes widened, "Why, what happened?"

"N-Nothing," Anna put her hands out, "I'm just… concerned for him, is all."

"Well, now you've piqued my curiosity, damn you," the dark mage frowned.

"So, you'll do it?" Anna hoped.

"Bring me some of Robin's hair. Then we can talk," Tharja dismissed.

"Hair? Like, from his head?" Anna repeated.

"I don't care where it's from, as long as it's from Robin. From the head is probably best, though," the dark mage grinned deviously, "reaching anywhere else tends to get me in trouble."

Anna sighed and stepped out of the tent, relieved to be away from the strange mage. She inhaled deeply and stepped forward, ready to move to the tactician's tent. Stealing hair… she shuddered, this was easily the creepiest thing she had ever had to do. She hoped and prayed he wouldn't notice… Oh, gods, what might he think of her if he did? Would he see her as a simple pervert, or something worse?

"Oof!" Anna heard as something hit her forehead and caused her to double back.

She looked up to find the tactician, "Oh, whoops! I'm so sorry, Robin, I guess I wasn't really looking where I was going."

"That's all right," he rubbed his forehead, "but I did say 'hi' as you walked up. What's got you so focused?"

"Oh, nothing… there's just a lot on my mind," she dismissed enigmatically.

"Anything I can help with?" he offered earnestly.

"Nice of you to offer, but…" she caught herself, "Wait, actually, yes."

"Oh?" his eyes widened, "What is it?"

She thought quickly, "Um, I left a bracelet in your tent. Is it all right if I go and get it?"

"Oh. Sure, go right ahead," he lowered his eyebrows and said plainly.

"Thanks," she nodded hastily, "I just didn't want you to think I was skulking around your tent for no reason."

He chuckled briefly, "That would have been odd, yes. Is something the matter, Anna? You look… nervous."

"Me?" she replied a little louder than she intended, "No, what do I have to be nervous about? Nope, I'm just as right as rain!"

He cocked an eyebrow, but decided to move on, "Whatever you say, Anna."

She didn't bother making any further excuses and made straight for the tactician's tent, frowning with evident distaste as she examined the pillow that lay on his cot and plucked a few thin hairs from it, holding them in her palm like a rat infested with plague. She hurried back to the dark mage's dwelling, frightened to death that anyone would discover her in the midst of the act, but sighed with tremendous relief as she finally met with the raven-haired woman once more. "Here's your damned hairs," she shoved them into the woman's face angrily, "That was easily the most unsavory, disgusting thing I've ever had to do, and that's coming from a girl who was a thief most of her life!"

"Hmm… cute, but your petty grievances don't impact me," the dark mage mused, "Thank you for your assistance, however. You've been _very_ helpful." Anna couldn't help but be disquieted by Tharja's tone of voice and lascivious grin as she concentrated on the bits of hair.

"Will you do it, then?" Anna begged.

"Oh, I most certainly will," she smiled, letting her bangs obscure her face. She commanded Anna to remain quiet as she began to murmur to the collection in her palm, first whispering, then chanting more loudly, moving her hand rhythmically over them, and, at one point, invoking some sort of totem—Anna didn't care to ask—before her eyes seemed to go dark. It was a long few minutes as Anna set in the tent with the catatonic shell of Tharja. Tired of standing, she lowered herself onto the floor just in time for Tharja to startle both of them: "Ah! Gods!" She groaned painfully to herself.

"Well, what did you see?" Anna asked.

"Nothing," the dark mage gripped her shoulders protectively.

"What do you mean?" the redhead pressed.

"I mean I couldn't see or hear or smell or touch or taste anything!" Tharja huffed, frowning.

"So, you didn't get anything out of it?" Anna elaborated.

"Oh no," the raven-haired woman scowled, "I got more than enough."

"You have to tell me what that means!" Anna demanded frustratedly.

After a sigh, the dark mage stared at the merchant girl cautiously and reported, "It means I seem to have grossly misjudged our tactician. With how happy he is, one would think his heart would be filled with all sunshine and ice cream, but when I was there… all I ever found was a chill and a longing sense of sorrow. The memories that have faded from him… they seem to be nothing but an amalgam of pain."

"So… you think he feels that all the time?" Anna wondered.

Tharja nodded, "I only got a taste of the emotional gamut he runs every day. If those feelings were that strong for me… I can only imagine…"

"But… he seems so happy all the time," Anna was arriving at her own realization.

"It seems to come and go. He can repress the sentiment with his more recent memories," the dark mage contributed.

"Thank you, Tharja," Anna exhaled.

She shook her head and muttered, "Don't thank me. That just feels weird. If you really want to express gratitude… Well, whether I like it or not, he seems quite fond of you. Be kind to him, peddler woman, and keep his heart safe, because if you don't, I'll have you committed to the ground before you can say 'check, please!'"

Anna resented being called "peddler woman," but she thanked the Plegian mage again, regardless, and made her way out, deciding that she would have to confront the tactician, given the new information. She found him back in his own tent, looking over his desk at another book, as always, "Robin?"

"I thought you might be back here at some point," he surmised, not looking up, "What's going on, Anna?"

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"You know the answer: 'fine'" they announced simultaneously, "What's this about, Anna?"

"Does it have to be about something?" she folded her arms, indignant.

He still examined the page, "You're still worried about me, after the other night, aren't you?"

"No… I just… Robin, are you feeling okay? Is there anything you want to talk about?" she insisted.

"I feel perfectly fine. And I don't really have much to say right now," he sighed, "You've been acting so strange today, Anna, what are you getting at?"

She sighed in exasperation and rolled her eyes, "Robin, I was helping Tharja to read into your heart today…"

"So, I was right," he noted.

"…And I didn't like what she had to say," she finished.

"Do you mean you think there's something wrong with me?" he wondered.

"Robin…" Anna placed a hand on his shoulder, "What I want to ask is why you keep smiling all the time. I know you're in pain, I could see it written in Tharja's eyes. There was no mistaking what she saw, so why don't you want to speak of it? Why do you just keep going on like there's nothing wrong?"

He turned to face her and smiled sidelong, "Sometimes, Anna, when there aren't any tears left, no more melancholy to be felt, all we can do is smile… and move on. Does that answer your question?"

* * *

"What? That's where you're stopping?" Morgan pouted.

"We're almost home, dear," Anna gestured to the house, "besides, I think you get the message I was trying to impart."

"That dad is miserable?" the little redhead half-joked.

"That your father could be miserable but chooses to be happy. Same goes for you, short stuff: you can choose to be disappointed, or you can choose to love the cards you've been dealt," Anna corrected.

"That wasn't even a romantic story," Morgan continued to complain.

"I don't know, I thought there was something a bit sweet about her fetching hairs from my pillow just to find out if I was depressed," a voice Morgan recognized as her father's called out.

"How long were you back there?" his wife asked as he draped an arm around her from behind.

"Long enough," he grinned.

"I don't think I like that you can sneak up on me like that," Anna sighed.

"Relax, I swear I'll only use it for good," he put a hand on his chest and kissed her cheek. Next, he looked down to his daughter, "And how about you? How was your day, Morgan?"

"Boy, do I have a story for you…!"


	9. Payout

"So, a date, then?" she cocked an eyebrow at him, "You're asking me out on a date?"

"I didn't really mean it so much as a 'date,' I was just, you know, thinking maybe you might like to go into town and get something to eat... you know, together," he waved his hand.

"Sounds like a date to me," she nodded, smirking.

"Call it whatever you want," he sighed frustratedly, "do you feel like going or not?"

She laughed, "Sure thing, Robby-boy."

"Robby-boy?" he raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, 'Robin' seems too serious and formal when I'm talking to you on a casual level. What do you think, like it?" she grinned.

"It sounds utterly juvenile," he dismissed.

"So, love it, then," she smiled more broadly.

"Please, I'm begging you, do _not_ call me that," he held a hand up in plea.

She rolled her eyes and laughed, "Well _now_ I _have_ to."

"Ugh..." he sighed in distaste, "What is it with thieves and their compulsive need for embarrasing nicknames?"

"Locksmith," she corrected, "LOCK-SMITH. Get the difference? Anyway, what are you on about? Does Gaius have a nickname for you, too?"

"Unfortunately," he sighed.

"Ooh!" she jumped, "What is it?"

"What do you care?" he wondered.

"I just have to know, please?" she begged.

He rolled his eyes, "For whatever reason, he calls me 'Bubbles.'"

"Bubbles?" she could barely contain her amusement, "Bwa ha ha! That's great! Aw, you're adorable when you're embarrassed, 'Bubbles!'"

He hid his face in shame, "Are we going to eat or not?"

"Sure, sure," she was still composing herself, "Ha ha... 'Bubbles.'" Robin rolled his eyes again.

* * *

"You can't do this," she frowned.

"Do what?" Robin picked his head up.

"You can't invite me to dinner and then just play around with your food while you hang your head. What's wrong?" she elaborated.

"Oh, nothing," he dismissed, realizing his posture and rising from the table, "I'm just... tired, is all."

"Mm-hm," she mused, "Come on, we know enough about each other to know that's a bunch of bull. What's the matter?"

"It's really nothing," he insisted, "I was just doing a little thinking."

"About what?" she pressed, exaggerating the last syllable and leaning over the table.

"Nothing... I was... Chrom..." he muttered.

"You were thinking about Chrom? Maybe I had you pegged wrong, Robin," she declared more to herself.

"I was... I... do you think I'm handsome?" he choked, immediately regretting what he had said.

"Do I think you're handsome? Why, what's on your mind now?" she smiled.

"Nothing, forget I said anything," he covered.

"Oh, please," she waved her hand, "Tell Anna what you're thinking about." He said nothing, moving a piece of his food and avoiding eye contact, "Is this about the other day? This whole tripe about not feeling good enough in comparison to the others?" she wondered.

"I... er, maybe," he hung his head again.

"Robin, knock it off," she sighed, "You'll never be happy comparing yourself to others all the time."

"I know," he sighed.

"Plus, I don't know, you don't look that bad," she mused, "You've got a decent body..." She pulled at his cheek, "And then these soft, pinchable cheeks, mixed with that stubbly chin."

"Ow," he cried, "Don't pull on my face like that!"

"I can't help it," she giggled, "You are kinda cute..." He stared at her playful eyes and she watched his disposition soften demonstrably. "Plus, I don't think I've met anyone who could match you for wit."

"I have," he resolved, "she's sitting right across from me."

She laughed, "Well, that's because, in a family of identical siblings, you have to either be the loudest or the most sarcastic if you want to get any attention."

"And I assume you fulfilled both?" he grinned.

"Very funny," she bit back with a smile.

"It's true, though," he digressed, "Most people, I feel I can get a read on before too long, but not you, Anna. Of everyone I've ever met, you're the one little anomaly that never fails to catch my intrigue."

She put a hand to her chest in half-mocking surprise, "And what could you possibly mean by _that_ , Robin?"

"I didn't..." he paused, then smiled again, "Nothing, just that you're easily the most interesting woman I've ever met."

"I'll drink to that," she grinned, offering her glass.

"Humble, too," he remarked snidely.

"Now, why do you have to spoil things?" she lowered her brow at him, still grinning.

"Sorry, I guess I just love crashing your day," she suggested.

Her eyes widened a moment and her lips parted into a whisper: "Me too."

"What do you mean, 'me too?'" he wondered.

"Huh?" she feigned ignorance, "Er, must just be the wine talking. Come on, let's eat up, already. The food'll get cold."

"Right," he nodded with more than a hint of suspicion. They ate in predominant silence for several minutes until Anna elected to speak once more.

"Say, Robin. Do you think you'd ever marry?" she asked.

"Marry?" he swallowed, "I don't know, I hadn't given it that much thought. Still have a job to do, you know. That aside, though, I don't really know." After another moment of thought, he laughed, "I don't think I'd make for a very good husband."

"I think you'd make a wonderful husband," she smiled dreamily, "and I bet you would have some positively adorable children..." She giggled, "Hee hee, I can just imagine one of them putting on that big cloak of yours: 'Look, daddy! I'm a tactician, too! I'm gonna be just like you!'" She giggled more.

"Obviously you've given more thought to this than I have," he observed, "Is this going somewhere?"

She swallowed her tongue, "Uh, no. I was just, you know, thinking out loud."

"Heh," he chuckled, "You know, Anna, you're pretty cute, too. Especially when you get caught in a lie like that."

"Who's lying?" she refuted, shutting her eyes and folding her arms, "You thought I actually was in love with you? H-Ha, that's a good one."

"I never said that," he smiled lightly.

"W-Well," her concentration was broken, "it's a moot point, because I don't, okay?"

"Whatever you say," he shrugged. She pouted in evident frustration. He assuaged, "I'm just yanking your chain, all right? Let's finish up and get back to camp, okay?"

"Yes sir," she phoned in an amused salute.

"I can't believe it's this dark out already," he sighed, digressing, "We haven't been here more than an hour."

"I know, winter will be on us before long," she sympathized, letting her eyes fall and reserving further comment.

"I'm sorry," he cocked an eyebrow at her, "did I upset you somehow?"

"No," she shook her head loosely, "I just... don't care for winter very much. Cold and darkness were never much my things."

"Funny," he smiled, "I was always sort of fond of winter. ...That I can recall, anyway. Sure, the days are shorter, but everything gets muffled by the soft, white snow and the steel-gray clouds... for a while, everything's just nice and quiet. Beautiful."

"You have the weirdest tastes," she chuckled.

"Don't start with me about weird tastes!" he threatened, laughing.

* * *

"Haha," the little redhead giggled, "talk about a May-December romance."

"I don't think that's quite what that term means, darling," her mother noted, folding a shirt and dropping it into a wicker basket.

"No?" the girl was stumped, "Hmm..."

"I wouldn't get too hung up on it, honey," her mother digressed.

"Do you think father will be home in time to tuck me in tonight, mom?" Morgan diverted.

"You can count on it," the little redhead sprung to her feet as she heard her father climb the staircase, "Evening honey. And how's daddy's little girl today?"

"Aw, don't talk to me like that, daddy," she chided, not shying away from his hand as it ruffled her already tousled hair, "you make it sound like I'm about ten years old."

"You don't make it difficult," he joked.

"Hey, that's not very nice," she pouted, "I'm a mature, responsible girl. Aren't I, mom? Ask her, I've been helping her bunches at the shop."

"She does ease the ol' workload a bit," Anna complimented, looking down to her daughter.

"I'm sure she does. Your father was only kidding, Morgan," he rubbed her shoulder lightly.

"Well, now," Anna gripped her husband's shoulders, "to see you in some remnant of daylight. This is a rare treat."

"I do what I can," he smiled.

"For once, I don't have to strain my eyes to see yours," she continued.

"Yes, and for once, I can gaze upon the face that brings light to my life," he cupped a hand over her cheek.

"I can leave if you two need a moment to yourselves," Morgan quipped from the doorway. They each blushed in embarrassment.

"So, did that nutjob Chrom have you working on any big projects today, hon?" Anna inquired.

"No, just the usual stuff. Papers, papers, papers, story about 'glory days' as a Shepherd, papers, papers, half-drunken outburst, papers, papers," Robin recounted mechanically, "What about you? Any horror stories from the old stall today?"

"Nothing I couldn't handle alongside our daughter," Anna was pleased. Seeing her mother's smile and hearing the praise, Morgan was likewise pleased.

"Gee, Morgan, you're looking more like your mother every day," her father noted, looking over at her, "Maybe I ought to take you fishing, or something…"

"Ooh, I love fishing!" she exclaimed.

"Do you have a rod?" he wondered.

"Don't be silly, father! You know I'm a girl! Unless you were making fun of me, in which case, that's neither nice nor funny," she chuckled.

Robin blushed as his eyes sank, "Uh… I was talking about a _fishing_ rod, Morgan."

"What's that?" she put a finger to her cheek.

"Didn't you say you loved fishing?" Robin raised an eyebrow.

"Oh!" she started, "Um… yeah, of course I have… er, one of those. Had it since… I was little, yeah, definitely. I can get it… tomorrow."

Her father laughed, "It's all right, Morgan. If you've never fished before, it's fine."

She pressed her index fingers together,"I just wanted you to think I knew about the stuff you like…"

He embraced her, "It's all right, honey. I was joking to begin with, but your father will love you no matter what your interests. Even if you don't like something I like, that's okay."

"I know," she smiled, more than contented to be in his arms.

"Though, I do want to know why," he hesitated, "you thought I was referring to… er, where did you hear that word first?"

"One of my old romance novels. I keep bunches of 'em in my shelf. I'm kind of a connoisseur, of sorts," she announced proudly.

Robin shifted his gaze to his wife, "We might have to talk about what sort of books you're allowed to read, Morgan." Anna assented with a mildly disturbed nod.

"If you say so, dad," she frowned slightly, however, her face lit up once more when she was reminded of her news, "Mom was telling me about another one of your dates today."

"Oh, and which one was that?" he focused back on her amusedly.

"The one where you called her an 'anomaly,'" Morgan grinned knowingly.

He tugged at his collar, noticing his wife smirking over his shoulder, "I recall it being put in much more romantic terms than that."

"I don't," the taller redhead quipped.

"I've got a story I could tell her that would paint you in an unflattering light, too, you know," he surmised.

"Hey, I thought we talked about that…"she murmured.

Robin turned and noted his daughter, whose eyes had already widened in anticipation of the tale. "I'm only kidding,"he eased into a smile, "I can only say good things about your mother."

"I don't believe you," Morgan reported with a disappointed frown.

"Sorry, but it's the truth," he surmised, hooking his arm around the shoulder of his wife, who was visibly relieved.

"Fine. Will you at least promise to read to me tomorrow, father? It's a weekend," she begged.

"Of course, honey, but you can read well enough on your own, why do you want me to read to you?" he asked with interest.

She gazed at him simperingly, "No matter what's being read, it always sounds best from your voice." She stared at her feet, "That… and… it's something we both like to do. And we can do it together. You'll still read to me even when I'm as old as you, won't you, father?"

He could barely prevent his heart from melting at the smaller redhead's defeated plea, "Of course, darling. Your father will always be there for you when you need him. And so will your mother. I'm more than happy to spend time with you."

She flashed another bright grin, glad her plan had succeeded, "I know you will, father. I love you."

"I love you, too, Morgan," he cooed, kissing her forehead, "Now, your mother and I need some time to gather our thoughts."

"Yes," she compounded, responding more to her husband in clutching his shoulder, "We've been apart far too long for my liking. I feel we have some catching up to do."

"I can see past the euphemisms," Morgan remarked flatly, "and all I can say is 'yuck.' I'll see you two in the morning." The pair laughed as their daughter shut the door behind her.

* * *

"Robin," he heard his wife murmur as the blankets shifted, feeling her hand land on his chest.

"Even I have my limits, Anna," he panted dryly and groggily.

"Don't get ahead of yourself," she loosely shoved his face, "I was going to say I can't sleep."

"So you wanted to wake me back up?" he coughed.

"Can you stop getting smart long enough for me to finish?" she demanded angrily.

"You mean you haven't yet? The way you sounded…" she could detect his smirk even in the pitch darkness. She slapped him promptly.

"I have something serious I want to talk about," she huffed.

"All right," Robin stifled a yawn. This was going to be trouble.

"That story you mentioned earlier…" she began.

"I only thought about it for a moment, Anna, and I apologize. I would never breathe a word of it to anyone," he insisted.

"It's…" she paused sleepily, "I was wondering… how do you remember that story? I can't recall it well for… obvious reasons."

"You really want to go back over this?" he rubbed his eyes.

"Yes," she determined, "I have to hear it right from the horse's mouth."

"All right, get comfortable," he cleared his throat.

* * *

Robin hummed contentedly. This was the first walk he had had the opportunity to take in several days. He was pleased: the sun was shining, but not unbearably hot, the grass was textured with the golden hue of the fading daylight, and he could smell a pleasant aroma emanating from the mess. Sumia must have been baking again. At once, however, he was halted by the realization that something about the day felt incomplete. He reexamined his day, cycling through the various tasks he had been presented with, supposing he had missed one. No, he had brought feed to the horses, helped with Frederick's tent inspection, performed his daily training routine, dug up a few extra carrots to make a soup for Panne, sat down for tea with Lissa, Ricken, and Maribelle, and had transcribed the last of his planned marching orders for the next day. He could think of nothing he had missed, and yet something still persisted in feeling undone. At last, realization hit him: he hadn't seen Anna since yesterday. Deciding the turn of events was rather amusing, he made his way to the merchant girl's tent quickly and quietly, and peered inside slowly, so as to ensure he was not intruding on something that would earn him a vicious verbal reprimand and ensuing physical one from the other lady Shepherds. "Anna?" he called lightly.

"Don't," he thought he heard.

Unsure if he had understood her correctly, he stepped forward and asked more loudly, "Anna, may I come in?" Hearing no reply, the tactician felt his concern outweigh his potential embarrassment and stepped into the tent, where it didn't take long for him to find the redhead, her face currently buried in her palm. "Anna," he commanded,"are you feeling all right?"

"Well if it ain't my favorite tacktishun," she sputtered in such a way that Robin was unsure if he was truly being addressed.

"Did you hurt your jaw, or something?"Robin wondered.

"Aw, no," she giggled, "I didn't hurt nothin'… You're so _worried_ about me…" She let out an excessively long and rather piercing laugh, "I'm peashy-keen!"

"Anna… have you been drinking?" Robin perceived.

"Jusht a spot o' wine with dinner, Bobby," she slurred.

"Robin," he corrected.

"Whatever," she smiled, aloof.

"How much have you really had?" he made sure to stare at her scoldingly.

"Really, jusht a little here and there,"she giggled, "and there, and there, and _there_." She gestured to bottles strewn about the small space.

He sighed, "Me, I could understand, but you, Anna? What are you drinking yourself into stupidity like this for?"

"You callin' me shtupid?" she frowned.

"In this instance, yes," he mirrored her.

"You really pish me of shometimesh," she continued to mutter, then suddenly lifted her head, "but itsh okay, cosh I think you're cute."

"Maybe you need a coffee or something, Anna," Robin frowned, looking about the tent, "to help you sober up."

"Nah-nah-nah," she tutted, standing, apparently ready to illustrate a point, "Theresh shomethin' that needsh shayin', here."

The tactician rolled his eyes, "And what might that be?"

She dropped back to her knees suddenly, grasping the tactician's shoulders with each hand, "I love you, Ron. I wanna kish you, and hold you, an' have your baybeesh." She giggled even more nonsensically than before.

"Anna," he supported her clumsy weight by holding her arms from underneath, "why don't you just lie down, or something?"

"You got it," she chuckled, smacking Robin in the chest to knock him over and land on top of him.

"Really, Anna, this needs to stop," Robin urged with increased nervousness.

"You can't shtop me...!" she grinned, pressing her lips sloppily onto those of the shocked tactician.

"Anna?" Robin recognized Chrom's voice, "Some of the other Shepherds have been asking about you, and... Oh, for Naga's sake..."

"'Ey, blue boy!" her bubbly voice indicated she failed to understand the gravity of the situation.

Chrom put his palm to his face, obscuring his eyes, "Robin, Anna, why is it when something's amiss, I always find it's because of you two?"

"Chrom, I was just trying to help her..." the tactician began to explain.

"And it looks like you 'helped' yourself in the meantime," the prince concluded, disgusted, "I might have expected such a scene from someone like Vaike, but you, Robin? Taking advantage of a drunk? That's positively reprehensible."

"I didn't-"

"I don't want to hear it," he growled, "Robin, if you have any dignity, you'll leave as soon as I turn around. And as for you, Anna... I don't know whose fault this is, but I recommend you clean yourself up and get sober straight away." He exited the tent, shaking his head derisively.

"Byeeeee!" she called after him gleefully.

The tactician pushed both his own weight and that of the merchant girl forward back into sitting positions. He sighed aloud, "There you go getting me in trouble again, Anna."

"Trouble?" she repeated sleepily, "Wash Chrom mad?"

"Very," Robin lamented.

"Aw, shucks, Tommy, I'm sorry," she patted his back.

"Enough of this," he wiped his shirt and stood, "You can figure things out for yourself, you lunatic."

"Wait, wait!" a more earnest voice pleaded as he felt a pair of hands grasp his leg, "I... didn't mean to get you in trouble... R-R-R... Robin."

He rolled his eyes and muttered something to himself, then plopped back down, "I know you didn't, Anna."

"I even got my besht friend in trouble," he watched tears pool in her eyes, "I'm no good to anybody!"

"Relax, Anna. It wasn't that bad," Robin consoled.

"No, it wash!" she determined, "Ever shinsh I left home, I been a shcrew-up, and now I did it again!"

"It's okay, Anna," he sighed, "I forgive you."

She continued to pout despondently. After a few further moments of lamentation, her head picked up to the tactician, "You wanna know why I got drunk?"

"Yes, why?" Robin encouraged.

"'Cause I was shad, Robin," she wiped her eyes.

"Oh?" he cocked an eyebrow at her, "Sad about what?"

"I wash shad, cush I washn't good enough, Robin. There'sh all thesh other pretty girlsh here with perfect figuresh and nice pershonalitiesh... What would anyone want with a plain ol' merchant girl?" she frowned, rolling her head.

"Good enough for what, Anna?" Robin wondered.

"Anyone," she remarked desolately, "My folksh, my shishtersh... In a crowd o' twinsh, nobody ever looksh at you twish, Robin."

"I see," he sympathized.

"Sho I'm either alone or I'm nobody. Shometimesh both," she continued, "Do you know how hard that getsh?"

"I have an idea," he smiled faintly, "But, did you forget, Anna? You're not with your sisters here. To us, you're one in a million. And remember what I said? You're the only person here I can't get a read on. You're special, Anna. At least, to me, you're special."

Her eyes pleaded with his for several seconds before she cried, "That'sh gotta be the nishesht thing anybody'sh ever shaid to me!"

"Everybody deserves a little kindness now and then," he smiled.

"Why are you sho nish to meee?!" she sniffled.

He paused, "I... Um, I care about-"

"That tearsh it!" she affirmed, "From now on, I'm gonna be jusht ash nish to you, R-R-R..."

"Robin," he sighed.

"Robin. Yeah, I'm gonna be like... We're gonna be like... I... We... I'm gonna be sho nish, you won't believe it!" she finally managed.

"I look forward to it," he half-smiled in amusment.

"Then you'll love me, and I'll have all your baybeesh..." she began to giggle again, "And we'll shnuggle together, and I'll show you what that Valmeshe woman taught me to do with my tongue..."

"Let's... just try to get some rest, all right?" he blushed, incredulous.

"You got it, bosh," she flopped her head onto his knee and was asleep in an instant. She began to drool before long.

* * *

"...I stayed with you most of the night, but I left because I was worried what you'd think if you woke up on my knee with a hangover," he concluded with a chuckle.

"I knew there was something missing when I woke up that morning," she recalled, "...Somehow, I don't think I would have minded if you had stayed."

"I didn't want to take any chances," he reaffirmed.

"You want to know something that you forgot, though, Mr. Tactician?" she touted.

"What's that?"

"Why did I get like that in the first place?"

"I thought you said it was because you didn't feel respected or loved by your family; that you didn't feel special," he recited.

"Nah," she drew herself up against him, "I could forget all of them, Robin. I was worried I wasn't good enough for _you_. I thought someone as interesting and intelligent as you could never have feelings for one so plain as me."

"What a silly thing to think," he shook his head, "You're the catch, here. I'm the boring one, bar none."

She laughed, "It's a wonder we ever got together, eh? Two people who never felt good enough for one another."

"I suppose that's true," he joined her, "But that just means we'll both never stop trying to make this work."

"I love you," she cooed, shutting her eyes and nuzzling into his neck.

"I love you, too."

They lay in silence for several minutes, inseperably affixed to one another.

"Anna?"

"Hm?"

"What _did_ that Valmese woman teach you to do with your tongue?"

"Goodnight, Robin."


	10. Salary

Another day with the Shepherds, another doubloon, Anna reassured herself, stepping out into the field for what was quite clearly a very regular sort of day. She didn't mind monotony, but she had figured that being embroiled in a war would involve more fighting and less marching and camping. That wasn't to say that she was in love with fighting, either, but it was strange that she saw so little of every conflict. Although, who was she kidding? She smiled to herself; she knew the reason she never found herself in danger, because of one person's efforts. He didn't think she would take notice, but she was aware. Feeling rather gracious and left with nothing else to do on such a day, the redheaded woman walked to that man's tent. When she drew near, she saw an extra shadow in the tent, at least a head shorter than the tactician. They seemed to be talking, so Anna leaned in.

"It's hard," the tactician admitted with a breath.

"I can tell," she could hear a girl reply with a sighing laugh.

"I just want to make sure I'm not hurting you," she could hear him chuckle.

"I'm fine, th-thank you," squeaked the girl. Anna could tell from the demure quality of the voice that it was the pink-haired dancer, Olivia, "Just use the tips of your fingers. It's so nice to not have to feel… scrutinized while I do this…"

"Any time, Olivia," she heard the tactician affirm, "but, wouldn't you rather have another woman do this?"

"I thought so, too," the dancer replied, "but I get so afraid that they're going to… _judge_ me." Anna could see the figure shudder, "The very thought makes my skin crawl."

"Judge you? On what? Don't they need this sort of thing, too?" he continued affably.

"…but I couldn't stand to think of them thinking about… what if I don't look good enough? Oh, it's torture, Robin! Torture!" the figure could barely restrain herself.

"Well, anything to make you more comfortable," the tactician resolved simply. "…And there we go. Ta-da," he laughed, "Is it okay? I hope so. Anyway, my door's open any time, Olivia… er, even if I'm not exactly an expert."

"You did just fine. Thank you again, Robin," she bowed and prepared to leave.

Anna was decidedly interested in what, exactly, they had been talking about, and feeling more than a little upset, she marched through the tent flap. "And what has Robin been doing, huh? Why's your door open any time for the dancer, but no one else?" the redhead demanded angrily. She stopped as she saw the tactician's hand drop from the dancer's hair.

"…B-Braiding my hair?" Olivia responded as if it were a question.

Anna's refuge in audacity had been broken entirely and she could now only stare blankly, "Oh… er, oh."

"W-What did you think was going on?" the dancer worried.

"I just thought… the way you were talking… Some of that stuff kinda sounded like…" Anna grasped, having completely lost her wind.

"Like…? What?" Olivia demanded nervously.

"Nothing, Olivia, she was just worried about you," Robin tried to diffuse her nerves.

"It doesn't sound like nothing! It sounds to me like she thought you and I were—"

"—H-Having some trouble!" Anna threw out, joining the tactician in trying to keep the dancer calm, "R-Robin helps me with my hair sometimes, too, and he's not the best at it."

He shrugged and laughed disarmingly, "Yeah, like I said, not an expert."

"Oh," Olivia's face informed them she was not convinced, "A-Anyway, I should get going." She moved quickly out of the tent, already more mortified than she could bear to admit.

"Now look what you did," the tactician remarked half-mockingly.

"Good morrow to you as well," she settled herself. He laughed noiselessly at her, shaking his head ruefully. "What's so funny?" she demanded.

"I didn't take you for the jealous type, Anna," the tactician smirked, returning an evaluative eye to his desk.

"J-Jealous?" she started, "Of who? Who's jealous?"

"Come on," he laughed, "anyone could see how you burst in here."

"W-Well," she crossed her arms, "hearing that sort of thing from you with a girl… I wanted to make sure you weren't taking advantage of one of the Shepherds!"

"Do you really think that lowly of me?" his eyes sank.

"No," she huffed, "but don't go thinking I like you, either."

"Why do you have to be so confusing?" he rolled his eyes.

"I was actually coming to have a little chat with you, you know," she scoffed.

He looked back, "Well, that can still happen."

"I'd be more eager for it to if not for that little disturbance we just had," she remained indignant.

"What do you want? Do you want me to apologize for you overreacting?" he wondered.

"I…" she was unable to form a response, "M-Maybe…!"

"Or maybe you want me to apologize for not doing your hair right all those times," he added with a smile.

She was relieved and joined him, "Y-Yeah. Why do you keep screwing it up? It's simple!"

"I don't know," he admitted ironically, "with the zero practice I've had, you'd think I could get it right on the never-th try."

She laughed and lowered the pitch of her voice, "Well, you see, styling ladies' hair is all tactics…"

Robin raised an eyebrow, "That sounds nothing like me."

She descended into a more ludicrous voice, "I'm Robin, blah, blah, blah, strategy, blah, blah, blah, Chrom. Reading books makes me more important than you, blah, blah, blah."

He grinned at her challengingly and raised his own pitch, "Oh, Robin, did you see those sales I made? Aren't you glad I ripped off that family of four? Haha, suckers! Money, blah, blah, sales, blah, blah, prices, blah, blah. Robin, you're handsome. Robin, you're an asshole. Robin, you're cute. Robin, go away."

"That is the worst impression I've ever heard," she rejected.

"Ditto," he called back.

"We always get here one way or another, don't we? Half-bickering with one another," the redhead giggled.

"Just another facet of the great conversations we always have," he nodded.

"Does it ever bother you?" she wondered.

"Getting to speak with you, no. I just figured the arguing was your personality," he smirked in such a way that Anna was unsure to what degree he was serious.

Her smiled dropped slightly, "I'm not always this contentious, you know?"

"So it's just for me? Gee, thanks," he chuckled.

"I mean," she declared more earnestly, "I can be nice, too. I can be quiet and demure and ask you to braid my hair."

"Are you still on that?" he cocked an eyebrow, "I was just giving Olivia a hand, Anna. You know I would never want you to change."

"It sounded like you were giving her a lot more than just a hand," she muttered, "but, what I mean is… I can be, er, ladylike, too."

"Ladylike? What's the sudden worry about that?" he asked, "I told you: I don't care what you're like. I like however you are now."

"Well, I don't," she decided, "I want to be nicer to people. Maybe not just to you. Maybe not to you at all."

"Okay?" he laughed, "So why are you telling me this, then?"

"You're going to help me practice," she determined, "Come on, you can try doing my hair."

"I don't remember signing up for this," he grumbled, "Do any of you people understand that I have my own work to do during the day?"

"Just do it. You'd be doing me a favor. Plus, it's easy, once you get started," she insisted.

He sighed, "Fine. So, do I just start here, or…?"

"There?" she barked back, "Are you stupid? No, up here."

"Like that?" he removed the tie from her hair.

She breathed contentedly as the maroon locks cascaded over her face, "That's right. Now, grab some of it and start pulling it along."

"Um, right," he agreed, not knowing where to begin.

"Ow! Not so rough, you big dummy!" she lurched.

"I don't have a lot of room to work with, here," he called down.

"You can hold my shoulder, or something, if you need to," she provided.

He tried managing the strands in his hand, pulling some of it up, "It's all wound up… It's so tight."

"That's the way it's supposed to be," she rolled her eyes.

Olivia waited outside, blushing, waiting to retrieve her hairbrush. She supposed she could understand Anna's jealousy, now.

* * *

"So that's two lessons in one for today, Morgan," surmised her father, stroking a swath of his own hair back, "Be careful what you say and how you say it, and your mother is a very jealous lover."

"One of these days, I'm just going to punch you and get it over with," the taller redhead called.

"And she physically abuses your poor father," he remarked snidely.

"Even I'm starting to wonder what's the matter with you guys," the smaller redhead sighed, sitting back.

"Well, I'm sorry to leave you with more questions than answers, Morgan, but I must be on my way," he rose, producing a pair of glasses from a pocket in his cloak. Thin and steel-rimmed, he placed the ornament over the bridge of his nose.

"Get home fast tonight," his wife reminded absently, wandering out to him, "I don't know how long I'll be able to keep dinner warm."

"As fast as these legs will carry me," he assured her.

Finally noticing, she cocked an eyebrow, "Since when do you wear eyeglasses?"

"Since the physician in the castle told me I need them," he chuckled softly, "Too many years of reading tiny print into the wee hours of the night, I suppose."

"I think they make him look distinguished," Morgan noted proudly.

"Thanks, sweetheart," he bowed, pushing them up.

Anna frowned, "Don't go blind, tactician-boy. I need someone to keep telling me how pretty I am."

"Don't worry," he smiled, making for the door.

"You know saying that only makes me more worried," she sighed.

"Yeah, I do," he laughed, opening the door, "but trust me, I'll be fine."

"Do you worry a lot about father, mother?" Morgan wondered shortly after the door had been shut.

"He gives me plenty of reasons to worry, that's for sure," the taller redhead replied, putting a pondering palm to her face.

"He always looks tired, doesn't he?" Morgan persisted.

"Very," her mother agreed. She digressed, not wanting to worry her daughter about her father, "Why don't we get moving? I have a story to tell you, you know."

"Do you?" she moved away immediately, smiling, "I wanna hear it!"

"Then shake a leg," she ordered, "I'll tell you on the way up."

The pair worked quickly to complete the rest of their morning routine, transporting and stocking the cart before they were finally ready to move. As both redheads settled in next to one another, Anna began.

* * *

"Anna, my book!" he lamented with horror as a horse's hoof trod it into the mud.

"It's just some stupid bunch of paper, you jerk!" she growled back.

He flung himself to the ground to rescue it, wiping the dirtied pages to no avail. The text was ruined. "Why did you do that?!" he demanded angrily.

"Because you refuse to listen when I talk!" she snarled.

"I'm so terribly sorry I don't have time to listen to the eighteenth story about short-selling some poor sap when I'm trying to keep this army alive!" he rolled his eyes.

"You could at least pretend to care about me like you do the others!" Anna continued to argue.

"Is that what this all is about?" he bit back, "'Pay attention to me?' Really, are you that selfish?"

"Me, selfish?" she railed, "At least when people explain their life to me I act like I give a rat's ass!"

"Honestly, what the hell is your problem, woman? Every day your attitude toward me is different!" he screamed.

She jabbed a finger into his chest, "Don't you call me 'woman!'"

"I mean it!" he determined, "I don't care what you pick, but for the love of Naga, just tell me whether you think I'm your friend or a jerk!"

"I can tell you which way I'm leaning right now," she huffed.

"Just be consistent," he growled, "I can't deal with this right now, I have too much work to do!"

"That's right," she looked around, "Everybody pay attention, our savior Robin has big, important things to do that make him so much better than you!"

"What is it you want?!" he demanded, "What do you want from me? Do you want me to say you're better than I am? Fine, you are! Do you want me to tell you you've incensed me? I think you can see that you have!"

"Wh-What I want is…!" she hesitated.

He noticed, "You don't even know, do you? I don't have the patience to be a gods-damned therapist. Go get help somewhere else!"

"Insensitive, conceited blackguard!"

"Greedy, bipolar intemperate!"

They growled at one another and parted ways, throwing their hands up. Robin sat at his desk and prepared to do what he always did when he was frustrated: read. As per the usual, as if he had no other care in the world, Robin read into book after book, almost voraciously, he had shut out all visitors and had finished almost three volumes before night fell. It was at that point, nearly finished with the third volume, that Chrom drifted in to the tent.

"I… heard there was some commotion outside today," he began delicately.

"A little back-and-forth, nothing more," he suggested quietly.

"Is something going on between you and Anna?" the prince asked.

"No," he flipped the page of his book ineffectually, "And what do you care?"

"I'm just asking," he placated, "because it's easy to tell how upset this little quarrel has made you."

"What do you want, Chrom?" the tactician surmised.

"I want this conflict resolved. It won't do to have my troops fighting amongst themselves," he concluded objectively.

"It won't be a problem," he sighed, looking to the book forlornly, petitioning it for an answer.

"Just… don't stress yourself out," the prince suggested.

"As if I've got anything to complain about in the way of stress," the tactician nudged the prince with his elbow.

"Believe it or not, in a lot of ways, you're the mortar that holds this ragtag group together, Robin. We couldn't stand to be without you," he assured the tactician, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Thank you, Chrom," he sighed.

"I know a warm bath always makes me feel better. Maybe you ought to try that," the prince offered.

"That's not a bad idea, actually," the tactician admitted, looking up from the book and sighing gently. He paused a moment without moving before finally announcing, "You can let go of my shoulder now, Chrom."

"Oh, right," he excused himself. Following his advice, Robin loosened and unbuttoned his cloak and headed toward the men's bathing tent.

* * *

"Um, hey," a girl's voice saluted tenuously. Anna turned her head; it was the princess, her strange pigtails bouncing alongside her head.

"Hi," she managed despondently.

"I heard some of the other girls saying you and Robin got into a little argument today," Lissa explained.

"Oh, yeah," Anna nodded as if she barely remembered, "it was just this whole silly thing…"

"Are you feeling all right?" the princess wondered.

"I'm fine," the redhead dissuaded.

Lissa folded her arms, "We both know that's not true."

Anna copied her, "No, I'm fine." She couldn't keep her eyes from falling as she threw out, "Why should one little scuffle with that moronic tactician of ours have me all broken up?"

"I don't know," the blonde girl touted, "Why?"

"I- That's not…!" Anna found herself too fatigued for arguing, "Just leave me alone."

The little princess took up an instructive tone, "Look, it's obvious you guys enjoy each other's company, so we really need to patch things up between you two posthaste, okay? You two parting would be a real travesty."

"There's nothing between us!" scolded the redhead in retaliation.

"Why do I not believe that?" Lissa rapped a finger off of her temple.

"I really don't need this right now," Anna sighed, "just leave me be."

"Fine," the blonde consented at length, "but you ought to take a bath or something to ease your nerves."

Anna paused and looked at her feet as she thought, "You know, that might not be a bad idea…"

* * *

The tactician felt even more relief than he had expected, entering the small, rather humid tent that sported a rather large porcelain tub. The Shepherds had carried this thing with them all the time, but he had never really taken advantage of it, usually preferring to soak in river water when it was made available. This, however, he concluded, was much more pleasant, simply resting in the pool of warm water, washing himself occasionally. It was all but perfect, and yet, the tactician couldn't help but to feel unsettled. Perhaps it had been Anna, the tactician couldn't decide, floating in the water, as the answer refused to come to him. Patiently soaking another few minutes, he heard the sound of a twig snapping by the tent, followed by a muffled curse. Rolling his eyes, Robin stood out of the bath and quickly wrapped a towel around his waist and wandered forward to find the source of the noise.

* * *

Anna rubbed her shoulder. She was frustrated, she was sure she hadn't felt this sore the previous day, and it wasn't as if she were being worked to the bone around camp, so why could she not surmount the feeling of aches all over her body that seemed to have sprung from nowhere. The bathwater was relaxing, but there was no quieting the irritating cries of her muscles. Fearing she was losing her mind, the redhead splashed a bit of water on her face. No good, she was perfectly awake and sane, and the pain was still present. As she neared her wit's end, she heard a rustling of leaves outside the tent, followed by the voice of a man cursing under his breath. Feeling equal parts indignant and annoyed, Anna rose from the tub and hastily wound a towel around her torso, stepping out to confront the peeping Tom.

* * *

Tharja inhaled as quietly as she could. Damn the terrain around this camp, she sighed to herself. It had been such a perfect evening, Robin had been taking his first bath in ages, and she could make use of her talents for sneaking and conjuring to get a good look at the tactician for quite some time. Her plan had been working perfectly (she had already caught at least two undistracted glimpses of the tactician's assets and was anything but displeased) until that damnable bit of foliage had ruined everything. Now, she waited, peering around the corner of the tent to watch as the young man searched after her, only a towel to cover himself. If the circumstances were different, Tharja chuckled to herself, this would be a dream come true. At last, an opportunity presented itself and the dark mage ducked over to another nearby tent, where she promptly felt a blow to her head and crumpled to the ground.

"As if this could get any worse!" grumbled a man's voice, "Watch where you're goin', Sunshine!"

That idiot thief again, of all places. "You watch where _you're_ going, you fool!" she chided, rubbing her forehead.

"Sorry to ruin your creepy bath spying, girly, but I gotta get a move on," he huffed, trying to push her aside.

"What, someone catch you, too?" the dark mage supposed.

"I'm not a weirdo," he indicated himself with his thumb, "I just need to get outta here."

"You had to have done _something_ ," Tharja persisted.

"No, nothing, now kindly shut up!" he demanded with a loud whisper, preparing to make a run for it.

"You'd do well to mind your manners, thief," the raven-haired girl cautioned him.

"Why? It's not like your curses do anything to me," he whispered pridefully.

"No, but…" she kicked him in the groin, dropping the thief to the ground. "A little… crass, perhaps," she snickered, "but always effective."

"How the hell did I wind up here?" he groaned.

"So, who were you spying on?" demanded the dark mage.

"N-No one!" he refuted.

"Oh, there goes that redheaded girl Robin likes. Guess I have my answer," she surmised.

"I-I wasn't spying on her!" he insisted.

"Oh? Then why were you by the women's bathing tent?" she allowed.

"I didn't have my eye on Red, but… she has a rather sizeable stash that she almost never leaves unattended…" he noted.

"I should have figured," Tharja rolled her eyes, "you're not even smart enough to be peeping at women. You're just a dirty thief, looking for the first coin he can get his hands on."

"Have you seen the bag that girl lugs around? She wouldn't miss a couple thousand gold," the thief covered. Tharja sighed in distaste. They both halted their breathing as a set of footsteps drew near. "Nice goin', Sunshine. Now we're both screwed," the thief strained, gritting his teeth.

"Don't be so hasty, you imbecile!" she strained back, "I can… there's a spell…"

"We don't have time for that!" he argued. The footsteps had doubled and were drawing nearer, until, suddenly, a miracle.

"Robin?"

"Anna?"

"What are you…" the redhead spoke first, "Wait, was it you? You pervert, I ought to—"

"I didn't do anything!" he provided, "I just heard a noise out here and decided to go have a look."

"Huh," she drew back, "that's why I'm out here, too."

"Maybe we're looking for the same person," Robin supposed, hazarding another scan of the area.

"Maybe," she agreed absentmindedly. For a moment, the two stared at one another, towels wrapped around each, standing in the darkness, there was quiet, save for a few bugs chirping to create a steady rhythm of low noise.

"Anna…"

"Robin…"

They both began, stopped, and looked embarrassed. Anna allowed the tactician to finish, "You were right, Anna. I don't always give the same attention to everyone, and that's not fair. I feel like I have a lot of work, but other people have their own troubles, and I should do a better job trying to listen and help, rather than be absorbed with my own affairs."

"No, you were right, Robin," she sighed, "I've been acting strange, impulsive, and, above all, selfish. It wasn't right of me to try to monopolize your time like that. You do a lot of important work, yourself, and I need to be mindful of the fact that sometimes you, and others, really just don't have the time for idle conversation. I should be more respectful of others' wishes." She paused, relieved to have it off her mind, then looked up, "Forgive me?"

"Of course, Anna," he nodded genially, "I hope you can forgive me, as well." He sighed, too, and laughed quietly, scratching his exposed chest briefly, "But look at us, we must seem a pair of lunatics, standing out here half-naked like this."

She giggled, "Yeah, I suppose that noise must have been nothing. And we do look a sight."

"Anna?" Robin hoped through the dark.

"Yeah?"

"Still friends?" he smiled.

"The best," she reciprocated, moving to hug him. She embraced him tightly for a moment, then remembered their current states of dishabille and pushed away, murmuring, "This is awkward."

"Er, anyway," the tactician looked away, scratching the back of his neck, "Good night, Anna."

"Right," she nodded, "Good night, Robin." And they returned to the bathing tents. At least, that was what the dark mage and thief lying in wait hoped, but as they sat a few minutes longer, they heard a set of footprints approaching their position.

"Sunshine! Do somethin', now!" Gaius rasped, hearing the merchant girl's footsteps not more than a foot away.

"Help me!" she pleaded, "Concentrate on sending her somewhere else, the first place you can think of!" He closed his eyes and, presumably, complied. Tharja muttered the incantation as quick as she could ever recall in all her life, and, suddenly, the footsteps stopped.

"Phew," Gaius sighed aloud, wiping his forehead, "That was a nice save, there, Sunshine."

"Where did you think of sending her?" Tharja wondered.

"Um… does it matter?" he looked askance. The question was answered as a pair of shouts arose from the tent next to them.

"Anna, what the hell?!"

"Robin?! How did I—what?! Oh, gods!"

"What are you doing in here?!"

"I don't know! I didn't-!"

"Okay, okay, how are we going to sort this out?"

"C-Close your eyes, or something! If you look down, I swear I'll break you like a twig!"

" _You_ showed up in _my_ bath! I should be outraged!"

"Please tell me that's your foot…"

Tharja shut her eyes and shook, "The… men's bath?! That was the first place you thought of sending her?!"

"The first one that came to mind, yeah," Gaius admitted nervously.

"I'll kill you for this later, for now, we need to get out of here," she affirmed, rising and darting away.

"You get out first!"

"Why me?! It's my bath!"

"Let's be honest with ourselves, Robin: as a woman, I have a lot more to lose, here!"

"What do you mean? You'd cover your eyes, too, wouldn't you?!"

"Get out, for chivalry's sake, you bastard!"

"Not a chance, you get out!"

* * *

"So… how did you resolve that?" Morgan wondered.

"That's a whole other story, I'll save it for another day," her mother decided. "Thanks for your help, as always, Morgan."

"Sure thing, mom," the girl smiled, "Boy, today went fast, didn't it?"

"You can say that again," her mother agreed.

Morgan cocked an eyebrow, "Um… 'Boy, today went—'"

"I didn't mean literally," Anna sighed, "Come on, I have to get dinner ready for your father."

"Right," she nodded, still perplexed by the previous request. What else could she have meant?


	11. Marginal Cost

"Dinner was delicious," the former tactician wiped his mouth and cradled his wife into himself as they lay down, "Thank you, honey."

"Oh, you know me," she sighed contentedly, "I do what I can."

He laughed gently and remarked warmly, "You really never do cease to surprise me."

"A merchant is nothing without a couple of tricks up her sleeve," the redhead concurred proudly.

"And I'd be nothing without my merchant girl," he grinned playfully, pulling her closer. He paused a moment, however, and turned his head away to cough, afterward promptly wiping his face.

"Are you okay?" she wondered, trying to push herself over his torso to look at his face.

"Fine," he dismissed, coughing again, "I'm just... fine."

She frowned and grasped his chin, turning his face back to her, "Tsk. You don't look fine."

"Ouch. That was kind of unnecessary," he smiled through the darkness.

"I'm being serious," she rolled her eyes, "Look at the bags under your eyes. You don't look well at all, Robin. Even your daughter has started to notice it, and now you've got her worried, as well."

"Morgan's worried about me?" he pondered.

"I thought I put these concerns behind me when we left the Shepherds, but it seems you're just dead-set on working yourself into the ground," Anna huffed.

"I didn't know Morgan was troubled," he persisted, disappointed, "But what am I supposed to do? I can't just stop working altogether."

"You can't?" Anna raised an eyebrow sarcastically.

"You know it's not in my nature, Anna," he explained.

"I know, I know," she sighed, "But maybe you ought to start taking more frequent personal days. I know back in the day Chrom was finding every reason he could to get you out of the castle."

"He was?" Robin lifted his head.

"Yeah, all the time. He said you could never see the world and live for yourself being all cooped up in there," Anna recalled.

"I guess I have something to talk with him about tomorrow," the former tactician discerned.

"Wait," she insisted, "the point is, you should take more time to just be... open, you know? Live a little."

"I'm afraid I don't follow," he admitted earnestly, staring back.

"Look, Morgan's going to speak with some of the other Shepherds' children tomorrow, maybe we could take that time to live like we used to," the redhead provided.

"Waking up naked and being served meals in bed? I could go for that," he smiled.

"You are hopeless," she rolled her eyes, also smiling, and shoved his shoulder.

"Look, if you want to do that, honey, it's fine by me," he relaxed, "We'll act just like a normal married couple."

"As if you could ever act normal," the merchant girl dismissed, settling her head back down next to his.

"I'm very normal," he declared indignantly, "you're the one who's always being weird."

"And fun, and spontaneous, and likeable, and attractive..." she listed.

"Yeah," he smiled, keeping the same tone, "why have you got to be so weird?"

"You're pretty out there yourself, tactician-boy," she decided, burying her face into his neck and shoulder.

"I know," he chuckled, "funny how we sort of balance each other out, isn't it?"

"Good night, Robin," she declared more directly, slapping her palm over his mouth.

"Gooph nigh," he mumbled through her fingers, kissing the palm before shutting his eyes.

* * *

"Now, you're sure you'll be okay?" her father asked, looking her over.

"I'm a young woman, daddy," she sighed, "I can take care of myself."

"I just want you to be careful," he couldn't help but smile as he finished looking at her. She had ditched her tactician's robes for this special occasion and was now wearing a lovely salmon-colored shirt and some fine tan trousers, with a plethora of accessories from her mother's apparently infinite collection scattered about her arms, as well as the rest of her person, looking altogether very presentable and, he thought, quite pretty, if a bit boyish, though that didn't bother him much. At any rate, he noted with some discomfort that the tightness of the shirt made her gender particularly clear.

"I'm going to meet with my friends, daddy," she laughed, "not a bunch of strangers."

Robin melted at her melodious little laugh. She was far too adorable for him to be anything but submissive, "I know, sweetheart. I guess your dad is just overprotective."

"I suppose there are worse things you could be," she replied snidely in a way that reflected her father's eyes and her mother's smile.

"Any boy touches you, you come back to me and I'll see the flesh rent from his bones, okay?" he said casually.

"You worry me sometimes, father," her face fell into horror.

"Just saying," he hummed musically, getting out of her way.

"Be back by sundown," her mother ordered, then lost her composure and cooed, "Ooh, you look so cute!"

She giggled at her parents, "Thanks, mom. And, weird as it was, I appreciate the offer, dad." Her father saluted quietly from across the room. "I promise I won't stay out too late," she nodded, stepping out the door.

"Well, now," Anna sighed as she shut the door, not having prepared a conclusion.

"What's first on the 'normal married couple' agenda?" her husband wondered.

"I don't know," she sighed, sitting down, "is there anything you want to talk about?"

"Nothing that wouldn't bore the hell out of both of us," he declared flatly, also seating himself.

She sighed, "Me too."

"Well..." her husband supposed, "We just ate, so that's out..."

Anna nodded, also thinking, "I told Morgan the story about the fight."

"You're going to have to be more specific than that," he scoffed.

"The one that ended with the baths?" she elaborated.

"Oh, that one," he recalled, "er... how far did you get into that?"

"I stopped at the important bit," she smiled knowingly.

He breathed with relief, "Good." They sat in silence another minute before he spoke up again, "Do you remember that discussion we had after that? About the thing in your ledger?"

"The family ledger?" she specified, "I don't really recall what you mean."

"I've been exploring it a bit in my off time, I came to you asking..."

* * *

"Hey, Anna. Looking at that ledger of yours again?" the tactician greeted her affably. She didn't respond. He took a step further into the room and delcared more loudly, "Anna?"

"W-What?" she finally broke her concentration from the page, "Oh, Robin. Good timing."

"Something up?" he cocked an eyebrow.

"I was reading more from one of my sisters, the same one who married Jake, and I found a pretty interesting story," she detailed.

"Really?" the tactician responded with interest, "You look a bit disturbed. What was it about?"

"Well... this sister of mine, she lived on a whole other continent, called Elibe," Anna began, "and she was dining at an inn a port town called Badon when she met this group of ragtag soldiers, all of them led by three nobles."

"Sounds a bit like the Shepherds," Robin smiled, glancing down at the page.

"Funny you should say that..." Anna remarked, her voice becoming more distressed, "My sister writes that among this group was a tactician, but she never really got the chance to speak with him. According to most of the soldiers, that tactician simply appeared several weeks prior and was immediately accepted by the nobles, like they were old friends. This particular tactician had torn up the land with this group of soldiers, beating down everyone in his path with his superior strategies, overcoming the most treacherous of odds."

"Hm," Robin smiled, allowing his mind to wander, "I should like to meet him and compare notes."

"Robin..." Anna still seemed frightened, "You haven't even heard the strangest bit. My sister finally got ahold of one of the nobles, a young woman who was particularly skilled at the blade, and asked about the tactician. Do you know how she replied?" Robin shook his head. Anna breathed and lowered her voice dramatically, "She said she found him in a field, absent his memories of the past."

"W-What?" the tactician started.

"Robin, do you think it's possible... this has all happened before? A tactician without memory, waking up and finding himself in the company of an accomplished swordswoman?" Anna pleaded.

"It is remarkably similar," he sighed, "but how old is that story?"

"Hard to say," she pouted, "time gets a little hard to keep track of in these collections of personal anecdotes."

"Did your sister provide any physical description of the tactician?" Robin hoped.

The redhead shook her head, "No, she never got a look at him. She only knows he was male."

"How bizarre," Robin remarked absently, "How far away is this 'Elibe?'"

"I don't know, I've never been," she replied simply.

"Perhaps there's even more to my history than I thought," the tactician sat down, apparently overwhelmed by the thought, "Did this tactician and noblewoman ever have some sort of relationship?"

"I don't know anything outside of what I told you, Robin," Anna reaffirmed.

"Gods forgive me..." Robin stared at the ground, "What if I have a wife? What if I have _children_?"

"Look," the redhead assuaged, "I brought it up because it's interestingly coincidental, but I think you're reading too far into it."

He creased his brow in frustration, "You don't understand, Anna! This is the first lead I've had! The _only_ lead I've had! Perhaps my parents are in this 'Elibe,' perhaps I've old friends there...!"

"Robin, Robin!" she shouted, "Settle down, okay? I don't think any of that is very likely, but even if it were, would you really abandon everything you have here?"

He paused, shocked, "N-No... of course not. The Shepherds have meant everything to me... but, Anna, try to understand my position, here. If you thought you might only have a very small opportunity to meet parents, friends, and even a family- a spouse and children- you couldn't remember meeting, wouldn't you want to take even that slimmest of chances?"

"Of course I can sympathize, Robin, but..." Anna looked away, "Why are you so set on having a wife and children?"

"If they exist, Anna, I'd feel absolutely horrid for having forgotten my duties to them," he explained.

"But... wouldn't you rather decide your family affairs for yourself, rather than have them determined for you? Anna hoped.

"What do you mean?" he asked, confused.

"Y-You know," she pressed her index fingers together, looking away sheepishly, "aren't there people you've grown to like around here, as well?"

"Oh," he realized, "I... I don't... Hrm, I'm not sure. I didn't even think about that..."

"If you ask me," Anna said, slowly shutting the ledger, "this entry had to have been written some time ago, and the people within its pages have very likely moved on. Maybe it's better to let the past stay in the past."

"M-Maybe..." the tactician looked disappointed, "but... I still wonder..."

"It's a lot more fun to live for here and now, wouldn't you say?" she insisted.

"...There is no time like the present," he decided quietly.

She put a hand on his shoulder, "No one hopes you'll find your parents more than I do, tactician-boy, but sometimes... well, there's a time to let things go, isn't there?"

"I suppose," he nodded, then turned to her, smiling, "and to move on to something new that can completely change one's view of things."

"Very wisely put," the redhead nodded, "Care to take a little stroll out on the plains with me? You know how I like to wander."

He paused, afflicted by something, then returned, "Of course. You're a real free spirit."

She stared back at him questioningly, "What was that?"

"Nothing," he dismissed, taking her along by the hand, "I was just... reminded of something. At any rate, yes, let's walk. I want to chat with you more. I feel like we don't get enough chances to speak to one another." She shrugged and nodded, following the tactician along with a bemused smile.

* * *

"So... you found out something more?" Anna inquired hesitantly.

"Yes, I did some digging, like I said, but it's not so dramatic a revelation as you might think," he smiled lightly, "I got a name on our mystery tactician: Mark."

"Mark? Apt," Anna surmised, reserving most of her comment.

"I don't think he has any relation to me," the former tactician remarked softly, "especially knowing what I know now about my heritage."

"I didn't think so," the redhead compounded more happily, "it was quite the coincidence, though."

"It was," he added uselessly. The pair sat another minute, not exchanging words.

"I rather like that name, though," Anna admitted, "If I had a son, maybe that's what I'd name him."

"We'll keep it in mind, then," Robin collected himself, then shortly sighed, "Gods, but this 'normal' thing is boring, isn't it?"

"Yes, thank you," Anna sighed with relief, "I don't know how any other woman can stand it! Please, for the love of all the gods, make a sarcastic remark at me!"

"Obviously we were headed in different directions with that, but..." Robin looked askance.

Anna raised an eyebrow, "Huh? What are you playing at?"

"It doesn't matter," he blushed.

"Bah!" she scoffed jokingly, "Chrom was right, you are an old lech."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he crossed his arms in faked indignity.

"We can't go one morning without your mind drifting to country matters, can we?" she pointed out.

"Well, can you blame me?" he blushed, gesturing back to her.

"Flattery will only get you so far," she wagged her finger at him with admonishment, "Lucky for you I don't feel much like punishing your right now."

"What do you feel like doing, then?" he wondered, looking away.

"...Can I tell you something? Something that's been bugging me a bit?" Anna allowed with a whisper.

"Of course, honey. What's going on?" he leaned in, concerned.

"...I don't actually remember how that story with the baths ends. How _did_ we get past that little situation?" she admitted, putting a finger to her chin.

"You don't remember?" she had caught his interest, "That was sort of an odd night, wasn't it? I have a bit of trouble remembering it myself."

"Darn, I wanted to hear where that went..." she lamented.

"I... remember some of it," he continued, "but not all. I can tell you what I do remember."

"I'd love to hear it," she prepared herself, nodding happily.

"All right, let's see..."

* * *

Robin couldn't move his face; he was absolutely mortified, staring back at the young redheaded woman who was also without her clothes.

"D-Don't just stand there gawking like an imbecile! Do something!" she chided, covering her chest with her folded arms.

"F-Fine," he sighed, his cheeks bright red, "I'll get out, but you have to cover your eyes."

"I'm not moving my arms," she determined, reminding him of their position.

"W-Well, what do you want me to do, stumble out of the tub with my eyes covered?" he bit back. She acquiesced through silence. "N-No! I wasn't offering that! How am I going to find a towel to cover myself, then?"

"Why are you so worried, what's the worst that's going to happen to you?" she barked.

"I'll be seen naked, same as you!" he responded obviously.

"So what?" she retorted.

"So what? Wouldn't that bother you?" he yelled.

"Yeah, but I'm a woman, Robin. If anyone sees me naked, I could never look them in the eyes again, but, you... as a man, you ought to celebrate having a woman look at you naked," she explained.

"Th-That's stupid! Why should the fidelity of your body be any greater than mine?" the tactician scolded.

"Oh, make a sacrifice, you selfish bastard!" she railed.

He paused, choosing not to respond, then began, softly, "We haven't really forgiven each other, have we?"

"What?" she shook her head, "Robin, let's deal with the most exigent problem first."

"I think that _is_ the most exigent problem," he reported, "we have to get this sorted out."

"Can we do it when there isn't danger of exposing myself?" she growled.

He sighed and shook his head, then reclined back in the tub, "I'm not going to try to hide anything anymore."

"Well, that's fine and dandy for you," the redhead doubled back, "but some of us still have a problem with this!"

"Just get out, I'll cover my eyes, I swear," he put a hand on his chest.

"I don't trust you," she disagreed.

"Look, something has to give, here, doesn't it?" he demanded frustratedly, "Why can't you work with me?"

"Because I'm still mad at you!" she surprised herself with the answer.

He nodded, eyes shut, "I thought so. Maybe we ought to just talk this through."

"I don't have time for therapy!" she chided him.

"And why not? If you were that concerned, you'd have just jumped out and run away by now," he guessed.

She leered at him angrily, "So whaddya suggest we do, doc? Just sit here until we feel better, and by then it won't matter?"

He looked away, "...That was more or less the plan, yes."

"I hate you," she grumbled and sat back in the tub, delicately positioning one arm and the opposite hand to cover herself.

"I'm going to ask you a serious question, Anna," he stated with a comforting monotone.

The merchant remained displeased, "What is it?"

"Do you like me?" he posed simply.

"What?" she rolled her eyes, "That's a broad gods-damn question, Robin."

"We've got time," the tactician noted.

She looked away, still sighing, "It's... Of course I _like_ you, but... I dunno, you can be frustrating sometimes... but, then, I imagine, so can I..."

"So what's the problem?" he perpetuated.

The redhead looked up, "Honestly? I'm not sure. You confuse me so much, I feel I dislike you."

"I 'confuse' you?" he cocked an eyebrow.

"I mean... you don't act like anyone I've ever met. You aren't trying to work me for a discount, or for a loan, and when you talk to me, you express an interest in... _me_. I... I don't really know how to react to that," she elaborated.

"You mean nobody's ever been nice to you before?" he half-smiled.

"No," she rejected, "people have been nice to me, but... I don't know that any of the have... well, you know... cared for me. Like, l-... l-l..." The redhead struggled with the word.

"Like I do?" he tried to help her.

She was relieved to find escape, if not disappointed that he was wrong, "Yeah. Something like that. But, what's got you all upset at me?"

"I was upset at you for being upset with me," Robin described plainly.

"Well, that's not fair, is it? I had a good enough reason to be upset with you," she determined.

"Maybe," he paused, lost in his thoughts, "You know, you confuse me a lot, too, Anna. I'm not sure I understand why you seem to care about me, either."

"Maybe I'm just schmoozing you for preferential treatment," she joked, but did not smile.

"But that's not it, is it?" he insisted.

"Sometimes..." she began, aloof, "A girl's just got to have her secrets, Robin. Merchants most especially. That's just how it is, okay?"

"Wouldn't it be better if there weren't any secrets between us, though?" he wondered aloud.

"If you're trying to convince me to move, you're really asking to get hit right about now," she huffed.

"I don't mean that," he frowned quickly, "I just mean, wouldn't you feel better having a... confidant, or something? Someone to vent your worst frustrations to?"

"I guess I could see how that could be sort of cathartic," she admitted, looking up to think.

He smiled and sighed happily, "I know nothing's ever going to keep us from arguing, Anna, but I don't think I could sleep knowing you were still mad at me. Can we make a promise? A promise to never go to bed angry? To always make up with each other, no matter how bad things get?"

"You and your crazy ideas," the redhead rolled her eyes and giggled.

"I mean it. Come on, put 'er there," he insisted, outstretching his hand. She took it, smiling sardonically. It took the both of them only a few moments to realize what she had just done. It took fewer still for them to be distracted by the tent flap parting.

"Robin! I go to the trouble of trying to find you all night, and here you are with this... hussy!" the dark mage huffed with incredulity as she stood in the doorway.

"Wha-? Tharja! Get out of here!" he jumped.

"Why should I?" she stamped her foot.

"Because this is the men's bath!" he exclaimed.

"Doesn't seem to matter much to the money-hungry woman you were just oggling," she persisted.

"I-I wasn't... That was an accident!" he provided.

"Was it?" Anna wondered angrily.

"L-Look, the both of you, I don't know how in the hell I ended up in this position tonight, but I can tell you, I didn't plan for any of this...!" he put his hands up.

"Well," a frightening grin developed on the dark mage's face, "Let's just wait it out until morning, and see how that goes."

"M-Morning?" Robin called back, but by the time the word had left his lips, he felt his eyelids becoming quite heavy, and before long could see nothing but blackness.

* * *

Chrom marched toward the bathing tent. He sighed to himself, if it wasn't one thing around this camp, it was another, and he could guess quite well who he was going to find. He had been led to the tent early in the morning when Tharja complained that she hadn't seen the Shepherds' tactician since the previous evening, even waiting for him to return to bed, in the unsettling way that she did. Already, Chrom knew this would be a sight, noticing the other Shepherds gathered around the canvas tent, snickering and blushing amongst themselves. He kept walking and parted the flap, rolling his eyes, "Of course... Robin?"

The pair woke up, each moving slightly. Chrom paused and covered his eyes, not before receiving a full view of the merchant girl's rear end, also glimpsing her exposed chest pressing up against that of the tactician, whom the young lord also lamented seeing disrobed below the waist. Fortunately, he needed to do nothing, as he heard a slap ring out and the tactician's murmur of pain. "Come on, you know for a fact I didn't do this!" he heard the tactician beg.

"Chrom?" the redhead did her best to sink into the water without drawing any closer to the tactician, "A towel, maybe?"

"I don't..." he looked around, no towels in sight. Tharja was cackling to herself.

"Oh, I give up," Robin sighed, standing out of the tub, "It's really not worth the effort, anymore." He sauntered angrily over to the other end of the tent, causing Chrom to step back and avert his eyes again. With a sigh, he presented his cloak to the redheaded woman.

"D-Don't you need this?" she hesitated.

"Not more than you. Go on, cover yourself and we can get this all over with a lot faster," he held it to her again and placed a hand over his eyes.

She leapt out of the water and wrapped the garment around herself. "Okay," he lowered his hand, "Now what are you going to do?"

"Chrom," Robin asked, "Are there still clean sets of clothes in my tent?"

"How should I know?" he rolled his eyes, which were still covered.

He sighed again and looked down, preparing himself, then declared, "Fine. It doesn't matter," and strode directly out of the tent, marching non-stop to his own, completely unclothed.

"Can I please just get one normal day?" the prince pleaded to no one in particular. Anna chose not to answer and walked out shortly behind the tactician.

* * *

"HA-ha!" the merchant laughed, "You just walked out there completely naked?"

"I had no choice," he blushed.

"Well," the redhead mused more softly, "It was... brave- I guess that's the word- brave of you to step out in the buff so I didn't have to."

"If that doesn't prove I'd do anything for you, I don't know what will," he laughed, sitting back.

"Did you get a good look at them?" the redhead smirked coyly.

"Did you?" he pushed back.

"What do you mean?" she cocked an eyebrow.

"Don't play dumb," he touted, "Your eyes aren't so furtive as you might think."

"I swear I don't know what you're talking about," she looked away.

"Whatever you say, honey," he shrugged.

"Though, this has made me think of a new topic for conversation..." the merchant declared alluringly.

"And what's that?" he wondered.

"Care to see what sort of a difference marriage makes for that same situation?" she grinned provocatively.

"Sounds like a plan," he acquiesced, "Just make sure we have some towels this time."

"Oh, don't be so shy," she patted his back as they stood together, "You walked past a crowd butt-naked once, didn't you? Surely you can do it again."

"Only if we fall asleep again," he teased.

"I'm... glad," Anna sighed, kissing him, "Glad that you made me able to trust you."

"I knew it would work," he smirked.

"And glad I'm the only member of the Shepherds who gets to look _and_ touch," she giggled.

"Have I mentioned I love you?" he kissed her forehead, cradling her neck as they made their way to the bath.


	12. Product

Morgan clapped her hands as the young man stepped down, "You are such a good dancer, Inigo!"

He bowed, grinning broadly, "Well, thank you. I do what I can, even if I look like a flounder, flopping myself around up there." She could see the worried blush permeating his face.

"No, it was good!" she encouraged once more, "And Brady, you sounded lovely."

"Cheers, Morg," he nodded as he lowered his violin.

"Knock it off," growled a familiarly irritated voice, "Why do you always have to act like you want to be everyone's friend?"

"…Because I want to be everyone's friend?" the little redheaded girl chuckled in reply.

"Argh," Severa sighed in annoyance, there was no getting to that girl.

"Tell me, Morgan," a more sober voice begged, "how have your studies been proceeding?" Laurent's hat announced his presence through the small crowd.

"Oh, well enough, Laurent," she dismissed, "but, really, who cares about that? I thought we were here to have fun."

"Er, yes… 'Fun,'" he repeated with marked distaste, "Well, I'd find it 'fun' if we could talk about some of the books in your collection."

She smiled, "Oh, Father says I'm not to go around discussing those anymore."

"Oh?" Laurent was interested. The restriction of literature was not at all the modus operandi for the former master tactician, "And why is that, Morgan?"

"He seems to think that sort of thing is 'inappropriate for a girl my age,'" she mocked him with a loose impression.

"That doesn't sound like something Robin would say. I would think he would be glad to see you reading like that," the mage continued.

"That's what I said," Morgan agreed, nodding her head, "Sheesh, make one off-handed comment about the male anatomy and pay for it the rest of your life…"

"Beg pardon?" Laurent raised a disturbed brow, "'Male anatomy?'"

"Okay, so maybe it was more of a joke," Morgan admitted, biting her lip. She put out her hands to explain in an earnest tone, "You see, it's about a lady, right? And she meets with this farmer, and he raises chickens, right? And he's taking a few to the lady, and she's really surprised, like, 'My stars, I never expected to see you here, especially with all your livestock,' and then the farmer says, 'I am to please, ma'am, and that's why I brought you my—"

At last Laurent caught her meaning and called, blushing, "Stop! I wasn't asking about those… shameless romance novels you so love to peruse, I was talking about serious literature!"

She stuck her tongue out, "Aw, now you sound just like Dad. Serious literature is fine, I guess, but what's the point without a little fun in between?"

"I don't know how you can even hold back your compunction long enough to sit through one of those… urgh, that tripe," the mage shook his head, sweating.

Morgan looked to each side, then whispered, "Are you trying to tell me you want to borrow one?"

"No!" he rejected loudly.

"It's okay," she nodded appreciatively, looking quite serious, "I get it. You're curious. So was I."

"I most certainly am not," he continued to cry with indignity.

"You don't need to be shy," she giggled at him, "look, if it makes you embarrassed, you can start with one of the lighter ones, like… here, Winds of Wings." She produced a small volume from within her cloak, "It's about a Pegasus knight and the secret lover she takes. Very soft sort of stuff. Lots of kissing and talk of love beforehand, with a little payoff toward the end."

"I have no interest in your lascivious rubbish," he declared definitely, trying to step away.

"Or if you want to jump right in, I've got…" she thought a moment and pulled out another small text, "Sword and Scabbard, it's about a young man's return from a bloody war and the wife that's waited ages for him, but he doesn't know that she's had an affair… You see, the joke is that the sword and scabbard are—"

"I get it!" he rolled his eyes and shouted, "Now, stop with this!"

"Oh, so right to the really dirty stuff?" she cackled with a wicked smile, "I didn't think you the type, Laurent, but, let's see…" she struggled for a moment, then produced yet another text, this one bearing a stark black cover, "How about Galeforce Girls? About a pair of Dark Fliers roaming the land, causing trouble and living indulgently. Downright scandalous…" Laurent broke into a cold sweat as he could swear he saw Morgan wet her lips, "…And very popular with men." When Laurent didn't respond, she elaborated, "Because, when I was saying 'living indulgently,' what they indulge in is—"

"Gods' sakes, Morgan, I get it! Argh, forget it! I have no interest in hearing about your reading, good day!" the mage strained and broke away.

Morgan giggled again to herself, "He's so shy about it, it's almost cute."

"Morgan, there you are!" announced a cheery Cynthia as she wrapped the redhead in her arms.

"Hi, Cynthia," Morgan greeted casually, "My, that's a very different look for you."

Cynthia looked down at her outfit. She agreed, it was quite the change, sporting a pale blue dress adorned with pink and violet frills that her mother had designed for her. It was pretty, if, perhaps clumsy, much like her mother, but she loved that it had been handmade, even if it didn't feel quite as right as did her armor. That was in the past, now. "Do you like it?" she asked.

"Definitely. It suits you to a 'T,'" Morgan nodded, admiring the dress.

"Thanks," she accepted, "my mother made it for me. You're looking a bit different, too. I didn't think I'd ever see you not wearing that cloak of yours."

"I love the cloak…" Morgan admitted, "but it's not really social-gathering-wear."

"Hoy there, ladies!" Owain saluted as he drifted to their sides.

"Hey, Owain," Cynthia nodded to him.

"Howdy," Morgan concurred.

"Fair lady Morgan!" he exclaimed excitedly, "It's been ages since your visage has entreated mine noble eyes! And still your equal beauty and determined intelligence shine bright through the eyes of virtue and simplistic absorption which you bear!"

"How I've missed you, Owain," she chuckled good-naturedly.

"But, lo, what is this? You have parted with the sacred garment adorned upon you by the powers of tradition and sacrifice to confer unto you the limitless powers of projected anguish and sorrow!" he noticed.

"Yes, I'm not wearing my cloak, as I was explaining to Cynthia. I feel more comfortable talking to you guys like this," she ran a hand down her shirt, then brandished the hand to form a pose, "What do you think?"

"These pinkish fabrics grip your elegant form in such a way as to—"

"A straight answer, Owain, I don't have all night," Morgan sighed.

"You look really nice," he declared plainly, "I, uh… like the bracelets."

"Thank you," she acceded, relieved, "they're my mother's. Have to lady it up a bit for social occasions, I think."

"You look enough a lady, that's for certain," Owain half-muttered, blushing lightly. Cynthia frowned accusingly at him, causing him to apologize for his indiscretions and move away.

"Where's Noire?" Morgan wondered to herself as Cynthia followed Owain out of the way. After a few moments' search, she found the anemic girl huddled to the back of the crowd. "Hey, Noire, what are you doing back here?"

"Just enjoying being with my friends," she remarked shakily, staring straight ahead.

"But you're just sitting here, shuddering by yourself," Morgan sat next to her.

"Like I said," she sighed.

"Come on, Noire! That's no way to be!" Morgan encouraged.

The lanky girl shook her head, "I'm sorry, Morgan, but there's just no way I can bring myself to be as bright-eyed and cheery as you."

"You could at least drum it up a little," Morgan insisted, "Come on, stand up, mingle! Just talk to people a little and you'll feel better, Noire!"

"I… I don't think I can…" she sighed dejectedly, looking away.

"You're going to," Morgan affirmed, grasping the girl's hand and pulling her up, "look, let me tell you a little story my parents told me…"

* * *

Voices were loud in the glowing firelight as the Shepherds gathered and chatted. Some revelry before the battle, that, Chrom had determined, would be just the thing to break the melancholy that had gripped the camp and to prepare the Shepherds to be in top form for the conflict. Food was spread across several tables, as many as the Shepherds could carry, and drinks, including more than enough alcohol for the entire group, were stored in massive barrels with taps that sat alongside the arranged feast. And so, the Shepherds drank and ate and laughed into the evening, with the exception of one, who was sitting by himself in the dark of his tent, neutrality a permanent fixture on his face.

"Seriously?" he could hear the condescension of the normally cheery voice as he sat back, awaiting the attempted lecture, "What are you doing in here?"

"Working," he was determinedly curt, trying his best to refuse conversation.

"Would it kill you to ever take a break? Everyone's having fun out there, and you're still just stuck in here," she scolded.

"Too much to do," he replied again, almost monosyllabically.

She shook her head and he could hear the laughter in her voice as she declared, "I don't get you. I thought I might have had some influence on you after all this time, but here I find you still manage to be exactly the same person every time I leave you to your own devices."

"I suppose I'm not one easily influenced," he didn't look up.

"For crying out loud…" she raised her fists as if she were straining against something, "I'll say it one more time, Robin: loosen up a bit!"

"I'm busy," he persisted.

"Very well, you force my hand," she tried to sigh, but let a quick laugh escape as she sauntered over to the desk and shoved the papers off the end. He lifted his head to her and frowned to demonstrate that he was not amused. "There," she beamed at him proudly, "now you have no reason to stay in here, come on." He stared at her a moment, then turned to pick up his scattered things. "No," she anticipated his move, seizing his arms, "let those go. You're going to enjoy yourself if it kills one or both of us."

"Why do you waste your time on me?" he wondered bitterly, trying to pull out of her grip, "Just go have fun for yourself. If I feel like I can, I'll come along."

She shook her head with a smirk, "I don't think you'd ever leave this sorry little tent if not for me."

"I'll have you know I'm rather fond of 'this sorry little tent,'" he muttered indignantly.

"That's the problem," she explained, "Really, Robin, what's got you so attached to this thing? Why is it you can't go out and join the others, just… you know, enjoy yourself?"

"It's…" he searched, "I can't fail. And, that means I don't have time to run around, uh, 'enjoying myself.' I'm too busy keeping people alive."

"It's more than that," she discerned, not removing her eyes from his face, "I can tell. Are you afraid of something?"

He scoffed, "What do I have to be afraid of?"

"Hmm," she mused, "Maybe failure, seeing as how you're so worried about it."

"Yes, I'd rather not see you killed," he concurred angrily, making another attempt to wrench his arms away.

"I mean failure with people," she clarified, raising her brow at him.

He gestured obliviously, "I haven't the faintest idea what you're on about."

"You're not so cool and collected as you like to impart, are you?" she touted, grinning at him, then softening her face, "You've got some kind of a… what would they call it… a 'social anxiety,' don't you?"

"No," he refuted weakly, "I don't… people don't frighten me. What reason do I have to be afraid of all of you?"

"Good question," she nodded, "why don't you answer it for yourself?"

"I don't have time for this," he dismissed, turning away.

"Ah-ah-ah," she tutted, pulling him back and impressing on him again with her face.

"Well, why don't you tell me, seeing as how you seem to have all the answers tonight," he growled.

"The way it looks to me…" she put a thoughtful finger to her chin, "you have a plain fear of rejection. What if you're not good enough for this person, or what if that person doesn't like you, that sort of thing."

"That's ridiculous," he denied, "why would I care about something like that?"

"Probably because you care so much about this army, you feel that if you weren't accepted by one of us, you'd have failed somehow," she resolved.

"That…" his eyes were distant.

"So, here's what I'm gonna do…" she released his arms, standing back. She cleared her throat and offered her hand coquettishly, "Would you like to be my date?"

"Beg pardon?" he doubled back, raising an eyebrow.

"You can be my date to our little party, then, if you feel embarrassed, you can just look to me, because I accept you, okay?" she offered with a small smile, "I accept you no matter what."

"You are a strange sort of woman," he resisted a laugh, reaching tenuously for her hand, "But... you do make me feel a bit more... comfortable."

"And you," she grabbed his hand playfully, "are a very dull young man, desperately in need of an interesting woman who can comfort him."

"Suppose you've got me there," he croaked before trying to whisper thanks.

"Now come on!" she pulled him forward suddenly, dragging him among the other Shepherds, "If we're gonna do this, we need to get loud!" She called to the gathered Shepherds, "Hey guys, Robin's gonna join us!"

He stuttered forward into the crowd and rubbed his neck as they shouted approval. "Uh, thank you," he muttered tersely, trying to hide himself among them.

"Where are you going?" she yanked him back, grinning, "come on, have a drink!" She held a small tankard to his lips, the amber liquid inside rocking rapidly.

"I don't think…" he sighed, trying to push the thing away.

"Aw, come on!" she rallied, "Either you're joining or you aren't!" She tossed the container back and allowed it to pour onto his face. "Whoops," she smirked as his face dripped.

For a moment, his face sunk gravely, and Anna feared the worst, that she had pushed him too far too quickly, and that he would simply storm off, even more upset with her than before, but, instead, after a second, a devilish smirk crossed his face as he soberly replied, "That's very funny. Very funny, indeed." He took a few steps to the side, almost demonstratively, as the crowd of Shepherds grew silent, equally mystified by their tactician. "I knew this decision would blow up in my face," he said with a mild humor. A few disjointed chuckles escaped his audience. "Though, I suppose you're looking for companionship, Anna, as I assume you would know the sensation of being dripping wet and drenched in liquor better than anyone in this camp."

The faces of the Shepherds turned to her, looking to see if it was appropriate to laugh at the tactician's joke. They were reassured as she smile wryly, "Ooh, good one. Never heard that before. But come now, Robin, don't blame this on me. I could tell from the moment I met you you've wanted me to cover your face."

Now some of the Shepherds laughed openly. "Well, I suppose you've proven I'm still a bit wet behind the ears," he wiped his neck. Another round of laughter, "But now I think I know why you brought me here, dumping your only other friend on me."

She laughed, too, clutching her chest in feigned injury "Oof, that one hurt, tactician-boy. I can get meaner, too. Look, your face is dripping wet and you're smiling in front of Chrom. It's your dream come true."

"Ow," he shook his hand as if she had twisted it, smiling, "I bet you're only upset because of the money wasted by spilling that drink…"

"Gonna have to do better than that," she touted.

"…You're usually in the business of earning money for getting men wet, aren't you?" he continued.

The laughter dried up again, unsure if this joke was acceptable, "If I had a piece of silver for every time I heard one of those…"

"You'd have a lot less, because you like 'em to make it quick and quiet, don't you?" he pressed, now grinning broadly.

"You son of a bitch," she moved forward, still bearing a grin.

"You damn cur," he did the same, putting a mere inch between them. After a few seconds of silent staring, she reached forward and pulled him in for a kiss, to the admiring encouragements of the Shepherds around them.

"See?" she smiled alluringly, breaking away, "You can be fun when you want to."

"Are you drunk?" he wondered as he felt the air pass over his lips.

"No," she smiled at him, "just enjoying my date. That's what we're here for, right?"

"Only if you're there to help," he admitted, somewhat breathlessly, "I... appreciate your being with me, Anna."

"Now, how do you feel about me drinking you under the table?" the crowd wondered along with the redhead.

"I feel you've got that backwards," a roar of excitement transmitted through the crowd as they both made for the taps.

* * *

"I'm not getting drunk with you, if that's what you're asking," Noire sighed as she was begrudgingly dragged in among the other Shepherds' children.

"No, nothing like that!" Morgan chided, "Weren't you listening? If my father can come out of his shell and enjoy himself, so can you, easily!"

"I don't know," she breathed.

"Oh, come on. All I'm asking you to do is talk a little!" Morgan begged.

"Fine," she allowed another shaky breath as Yarne drew up toward them. She caught his attention, "Um, hi, Yarne."

"Hey, Noire. I didn't see you. How are you holding up?" he replied.

"I'm… okay," she heaved.

He frowned concernedly, "You don't sound okay. Do you need to rest, or something?"

"No… don't worry about me…" the girl's pale blue eyes hit the ground.

He persisted earnestly, "No, honestly, it's okay. I was thinking I'd get moving soon, and I've been told I make a pretty comfy bed when I transform."

"I…" she hesitated.

"Sorry, did that sound presumptuous?" he worried.

"No… I-I… I'd like that, Yarne. A nap would be good," she broke a smile.

"Great," he breathed with relief.

"I knew you could do it, Noire," Morgan cheered, placing a hand on the girl's pale shoulder.

"Gah!" Yarne jumped back, "Don't pull my ears!" He scurried off, prompting Noire to chase him.

Morgan giggled, "Bye, bunny! Later, Noire!"

Heads turned as Lucina brought herself to the front of the group, "Everyone, might I have your attention for a moment? I have an announcement."


	13. Return

"It was a lot of fun," he sighed, finishing his reminiscence, "but I do apologize. The more, uh, insinuating jokes might have been a bit heavy-handed."

"Please," she waved her hand carelessly,"I don't think I can even count the number of times someone has implied I'm a prostitute. That's just how it works when you're a woman in business. I always get away with the better deal, so it never bothers me, anyway."

He nodded and smiled, "At any rate… how are you feeling?"

She swirled her foot around in the soapy water and giggled to herself, "I don't know… the risk isn't there. It's not quite as much fun this way."

He laughed, "But you're in business, you're supposed to hate risk, aren't you?"

"Nah," she waved her hand again, "risks are what make the job worth doing." She narrowed her eyes on the wall, "When you make a move that everyone else thinks is stupid, but that you've based on your own intuition, and you arrive at that moment when you can see it panning out before you…" She shuddered, "Oh, you get this tremendously fuzzy feeling…"

"Anna, I think you're drooling," he remarked snidely, staring amusedly at her face.

"Stow it, buddy," she splashed a small wave of the water at him.

"Hey now, that wasn't nice," he scolded as a father to a child.

She stuck her tongue out, "Yeah, I'm a mean girl."

"Perhaps you ought to be punished for that," he leered at her, and, in an instant, was overtop of her, and began to tickle her sides.

"Pffft," she sputtered with laughter,"R-Robin! S-Stop that! Haha!"

"No way," he grinned, "look at you, you're adorable like this."

"I-I'm gonna kill you," she breathed between spurts of laughter as he continued.

"Now, I'm doing this to stop you being mean," he used the same instructive tone as before, "Would you prefer I gave you a spanking, young lady?"

She cracked up, "Don't try the dirty talk, you sound ridiculous."

"All right," he sighed, "Talk is cheap, anyway." She leapt as she felt his hands settle on her thighs.

"That's more like it," she eased her arms around his neck.

"Mother, father, I, uh…"

They slid quickly back to their own sides of the tub and covered themselves. Robin spoke up, his blush easily the more profuse, "W-What is it, Morgan?"

"I wanted to talk but, uh… I'll give you a few minutes," she backed up, then muttered under her breath, "Like rabbits, the two of you."

"R-Right," her father complied weakly. Anna laughed as the door was shut and he stood out of the tub. A few minutes passed as the former tactician and his wife filed out of the bathroom, now wrapped with towels, and slipped back into their casual attire, though not before, to Morgan's chagrin, spending a few minutes chuckling at one another and doing Naga-knows-what, though Morgan could swear she heard a distinct slapping sound a few times, which didn't make her any the more comfortable."Now," her father began ceremoniously, but with a pang of laughter remaining in his voice, "What was it you wanted to talk about, Morgan?"

Anna followed close behind him, "Did you enjoy yourself?"

The little redhead nodded, "It was plenty of fun, getting to see everyone again. I just…"

"Just what?" Robin persisted, now more genuinely concerned.

"Lucina had some words for us all… and she might be right… I have to consider…" she hesitated weightily.

"Go on, honey," her father beckoned, endeavoring to lower himself to her eye level.

"I…" she hesitated once more, and tears welled in her eyes, "Oh, I can't bring myself to say it!"

"Is this what I think it is?" her mother drew near with a conciliatory voice. Her daughter sniffled miserably and looked up in response. "You were talking about leaving us, weren't you?"

"S-She said… we all have to go… at some point," the girl interspersed between sobs, "And now, while we're still young enough to make our own livings might be a good time."

"Morgan, honey, you know you don't ever have to leave us if you don't want to," her father affirmed, wrapping an arm around her.

"I know… but… it's not fair to you two… I shouldn't be in the way of you being a normal married couple," she explained dutifully, but crestfallen.

Robin and his wife exchanged glances,"Sweetheart, you don't have to leave on our account. As a matter of fact, you tend to make things a little more interesting around here."

"Still," she was determined through her crying, "I… I'm a burden to you."

"No," Robin declared more definitely, shaking her slightly, "you most certainly are not. You're my daughter, and I would give the whole of my life for you."

"Exactly," Anna assented, drawing over her daughter protectively, "Screw that little princess, she doesn't own you. You make whatever decisions you want, honey."

She sniffled once more, then stared appreciatively at both her parents, "Thanks… mom and dad. I love you guys."

"We love you, too, honey," Robin nodded, and Morgan was enveloped in a hug from both of them.

"Gods…" Morgan's tone of voice was already lightening, "You're warm. The both of you must have been in there all day."

"More or less," Robin chuckled, breaking the embrace.

"Can you still pick me up, father?" Morgan inquired.

"What, you mean like a baby?" he regarded her with amusement.

"Uh-huh," she nodded, "I wanna see if you've managed to stay strong since you left the Shepherds."

"I'll see what I can do," he hazarded, putting his arms behind her neck and legs and scooping her up, with more than a few grunts of effort.

"Impressive," she laughed in his arms, "Now, let's see about your shoulders." She grasped his shoulders and prepared to perch herself atop them.

"You might not wanna do that, hon," Anna cautioned her daughter, but it was too late. In a moment, Robin groaned and fell on his face, his daughter landing squarely on his neck.

"Ow," he declared flatly.

"What happened there? You were doing fine before," Morgan was more interested in her own question.

"It's my back, I think," he sighed, "I can't… It just hurts sometimes."

"Your back hurts? Father, you sound like an old man," his daughter giggled.

"Your father's been under a lot more stress than most men," Anna frowned, "he has aches like you wouldn't believe."

"Ah, but she's right," he sighed, picking himself up, "I do sound like an old man, complaining of my aches. And while I appreciate your sympathy, Anna, it likely isn't helping the matter."

"I didn't mean it pejoratively," Morgan qualified, seeing her father's disappointment. She smiled as sweetly as possible, "I'll love you no matter how old you are, father! Even when you're all gray and forgetful."

He chuckled at her, "Thank you, sweetheart."

"Maybe we could use a vacation," Anna supposed.

"I'm retired," Robin breathed, finally managing to stand, "My life is one big vacation, now."

"And one well deserved," she observed as he cracked his neck and rubbed his ever-tired eyes, "but maybe we should think about a real getaway, you know? A few days of just… nothing."

"I can't do nothing if I try," he shook his head wryly, "You remember our 'honeymoon.'"

She laughed, recalling it, "Sure, but we resolved that one in the end, didn't we?"

"I seem to recall things working out," he nodded.

"So, let's relax like that," she put forward.

"Like what?" an interested Morgan interposed.

"Oh, it's a long, boring story," her father dismissed.

"Not the way I remember it," his wife giggled.

He sighed, "Fine, you tell it, then."

Anna cleared her throat, "See, it was after we defeated Gangrel, not long after your father and I were married, I was at the castle and received word that one of my sisters wanted to make us an offer…"

* * *

"I don't think I'm ever going to get used to that," Robin ascertained, grasping at his body to ensure he was still corporeal.

"What?" his wife looked back, "Interrealm travel? Yeah, I never really liked the feeling, either."

"Gods," Robin wiped his forehead, "It's unseasonably hot, isn't it?"

"Not around here, according to my sister," Anna recounted.

"Gah!" Robin shouted as he stuttered forward, "I can't seem to keep my footing around here, either… this sand is so…shifty."

"Come on, trooper," she beckoned ironically, "we're almost there."

"Well, now, howdy there!" greeted an all-too-familiar voice. Robin lifted his head, then shook it confusedly upon realizing that it wasn't his wife talking.

"Hey, how's it going?" Robin's Anna saluted as they drew up on the young lady.

"Fine, fine," the other woman smiled brightly, "So, this is your new hubby, eh?"

"News travels fast, huh?" Anna acceded.

"Along our network, of course," the other woman determined proudly, as if it were obvious.

"Yes," Anna pulled her husband in with her arm, "This is my husband, Robin."

"Nice to make your acquaintance," he waved. Only now did he catch a good look at the young lady, the spitting image of his wife, which in and of itself was confusing, but he averted his eyes when she seemed only to be wearing her smallclothes.

"Something wrong?" she raised an eyebrow at his reaction, "Have I offended you?"

"No, but… er, beg your pardon, milady, we seem to have caught you in the midst of dressing," he continued to look away.

"What?" she looked down, "Oh. Have you guys never seen a bikini before?"

"B-Bikini?" Robin repeated, "Is that what you call those smallclothes you're wearing?"

"Not smallclothes," she chuckled with amusement, "They're basically casual wear here in the Hotrealm. You must be sweltering in all that gear, right?"

"A bit," Robin was reminded of his perspiration and wiped his forehead again.

"Then lose it!" she encouraged, "I've got a bathing suit for you to wear, er, was it Robin?"

"I am _not_ wearing that," he indicated her clothing with profuse embarrassment.

She giggled again, "I'm sorry… No, you won't be wearing a bikini, there's a different kind for men."

"I see," he sighed with a slight relief.

"You know, you can look, sweetie," Anna's sister encouraged Robin.

"Right…" he turned to face her uncomfortably.

"So shy… it's kind of cute," the other redhead murmured to her sister.

Anna whispered to her husband, "In a way, you've seen it all before, anyhow." He blushed again and was paralyzed with embarrassment.

"Come on, kids. I'll get your clothing and lodging squared away," Anna's sister proceeded forward.

Anna followed her, but noticed her husband had stopped moving. She whistled for him, "Get the lead out, tactician-boy."

"Coming," he grumbled. Why did it seem impossible to find anyone with any sense?

"Here she is," the other Anna presented with a small semblance of grandiosity, "Not exactly a palace, but I think you'll find the lodging doesn't matter anywhere near as much as the locale." Robin and Anna nodded, scanning the obviously modest, but somewhat homey and certainly well-cared-for little wooden building that stood as the only ornament on a veritable sea of sugar-white sands, leading into a sapphire, crystalline expanse of ocean. They both quickly concurred with the assessment the other Anna had made.

"So," the other Anna appeared, "here's one of these for you." She handed Robin's wife a swimsuit that matched her own.

"W-Wait… Anna, you're going to wear one of those?" Robin asked nervously.

"If it's the local fashion, why not?" she shrugged, "Looks like it might feel kinda liberating to wear."

"But what if someone…" Robin's embarrassment returned and stole the remainder of his sentence.

"There's no one around for miles," the other Anna reassured, "I wouldn't let any perverts around here, I assure you."

"Well, all right," Robin nodded.

"And for you…" Anna's sister continued, pulling out a pair of purplish indigo trunks, "All yours."

"They seem a bit short," Robin took the garment cautiously, "Shall I wear them with my cloak or just the shirt?"

She laughed; these foreigners were too much, "Neither, you're to wear them without anything over top."

"Huh?" he couldn't understand, "But then my chest will be exposed."

"That's the point," the other Anna nodded matter-of-factly.

He rubbed his neck, "Er, as much as I'd like to, I fear my figure isn't worthy of such a… frankly revealing garment."

"Come on," Anna's sister leered, "What? Ylisse's master tactician is afraid of showing a little skin?"

"It's just us here," Anna compounded.

"And your sister," Robin rejected.

"Oh, please. Just because you managed to pull the wool over my sister's eyes long enough to get a ring on her doesn't mean your 'irresistible charms' will get to all of us," the other Anna replied with exorbitant sarcasm.

"You are all alike," Robin quipped to his wife.

"Come on, give it a shot," Anna encouraged her husband.

"Fine," he sighed, taking the item and heading into the cabana. In a few moments, he stepped back outside and rubbed his neck as he avoided looking at either of the identical sisters, sporting his new clothes.

Neither of them made any secret of evaluating him thoroughly, however. Robin's own wife wolf-whistled, and her sister chuckled before agreeing, "Not bad."

"Lookin' good, baby!" Robin's wife called aloud in such a shout as only served to make him more embarrassed.

"I think I get it a little better now,"mused the other Anna, if more to herself.

"Thanks, ladies, but, please… it's too much," he tried to smile as he bowed before them.

"Isn't this fun?" Anna toyed with her husband, approaching him and patting him softly on the cheek.

"Your turn," he resisted.

"All right," she dragged the syllable out sultrily, at the same time dragging her finger along the length of his chin,"I'll be right back. Don't you go anywhere." He nodded succinctly and she went inside.

The other redhead, standing to the side, broke the silence after her sister had gone inside, "So… how do they fit?"

"They're a bit… snug," Robin strained, trying to avoid the urge to relieve precisely where they felt the most "snug."

"That's funny," she frowned, trying to make a determination, "I was sure I had the right size, and everything."

He flushed as he explained, "As a woman…do you suppose there's anything you might have… forgotten to account for?"

She scowled more intensely, "What's that supposed to mean, you damn misogynist?"

"I didn't mean it like that," he strained, "I just mean… perhaps there are some differences in men's and women's fashions that have been… overlooked?"

"Differences in fashion? I'm not sure I know what you're getting at," she remarked, placing an inquisitive finger to her chin.

"One major difference," he pressed, hoping to end the conversation.

She went on thinking to herself, "Let's see… the thread count was… and then I had them fitted on… which was fine because… but I needed… did I? Hmm… they're waterproof thanks to that spell, but I don't think… I didn't need as much room for… but… was there something else I needed room for…. Oh!" She jumped as she finally ascertained his complaint. Now, she, too, blushed a bit as she apologized meekly, "I guess there is a chance I might have… overlooked that particular aspect. I can… try to resize them, but it might take a while."

"It's fine, I can live with it," he dismissed, though his hand hovered by the outside of his thigh worriedly.

"Sorry about that," she persisted, "I'll have it fixed for the next time, that's for sure."

"No trouble," he sighed, happy to have the matter over with.

"So far…" the other redhead breathed, "I approve."

"Approve of what?" he faced her again. She gestured reciprocally without uttering a word. "Oh, er, thank you," he nodded, though he didn't recall ever asking.

"Ta-da!" Robin's Anna pushed the door open and sauntered out to her husband, "What do you think? How do I look?"

"Wow," he smiled, enraptured.

"That's not really an answer, baby," he smirked at him.

"You look gorgeous," he tried again, putting his hands on her hips.

"Hey, don't you know anything?" she tutted, tapping a finger on his nose, "Hands off the merchandise."

"Beg your pardon," he covered, pulling his hands away.

"All this heat must be melting your little tactical brain," she rapped her knuckles off his skull.

"Yeah, that's it," he laughed quickly,"the heat."

"Man, get a room," the other Anna laughed into her palm, "At any rate, I'm gonna skedaddle. You lovebirds tell me if you need anything, all right?"

"Got it," Anna nodded, almost pushing her sister out of the way. Robin smiled again as the other redhead trotted off."So, what's first on the honeymoon agenda, honey?"

"What?" he stopped smiling, "This was your plan."

"I'm just pulling your leg, Robin. Come on, chill out," she giggled at his perplexity. She took several steps further down the beach, approaching the waters and lowering herself to the sandy ground. "Have a seat," she beckoned her husband, patting the sand beside her.

He complied with some small hesitation, lowering himself carefully onto the sand before simply falling back. "A bit coarse," he muttered.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" she asked, admiring the cascading waves.

"No doubt about that," he agreed, trying to focus on the same spot as her.

"I'm glad I can be here with you," she draped herself around him warmly, tucking her head between his neck and chest.

"Me too," he reached forward and stroked her hair, "If I have any concept of paradise, this is it."

Anna made no effort to break from his hold and sat for several minutes, comforted by the monotony of his hands running softly along the back of her head and, shortly thereafter, lightly massaging her back. Shutting her eyes, it didn't take Anna long to be lulled into sleep, having already been quite worn out from the rather long journey. Again, she held no reservations as her sleeping head dropped unceremoniously into her husband's lap.

The day passed rather normally, winds remaining mostly still, clouds filling the air only on occasion, and never enough to block out the sun for more than a few minutes. Eventually, Robin had to cover himself with his cloak again, sensing burning all over his skin as midday sailed by.

Anna picked her head up, still feeling groggy. After a second, she noticed a change and shivered, "Ah, when did it get so cold?" She waited for her husband to reply in some way, clutching both of her shoulders, but was disquieted when he made no such effort. "Robin, honey? Are you awake?" Again, no answer, though she could clearly see the figure sitting beside her, hunched over. Curious, Anna pushed his shoulder to rouse him, realizing that his cloak was back on. "Robin. Honey, wake up," she insisted with rising urgency. Still no answer, the figured remained still as a statue. "It's not funny, Robin. Wake up!" she pushed him more roughly, trying to make him move. Nothing. She began to feel a cold sweat on her brow as she noticed the sky was dark and the beach seemed to be abandoned. Even the waters had grown listless and grayish, as if all the color had been sapped from the land. "Robin!" she called as loudly as she could. Hesitant, and wondering why she hadn't thought of this course of action before, Anna reached for the cowl of her husband's cloak, now drawn over his head, and began to pull it off, drawing a strangely massive sense of apprehension. Anna screamed: beneath the hood was… something. Not her husband. It was a construct of grayed and blue flesh, seeming to have been dead for eons, the thing resembled her husband in only the loosest of ways and its transfixed eyes stared at her, as if pleading and mocking at her in equal parts. She couldn't hide her abject horror.

Until she felt his warm hands on her, "Whoa, whoa, whoa, what is it, honey?"

Anna's head rose again, though this time she gazed into the bright and warm eyes of her husband, these shimmering with concern. "What?" she proclaimed absently, becoming aware that there was moisture on her face, but feeling her throat rendered quite dry.

"Are you all right?" he groped at her shoulders and examined her, attempting to make a diagnosis, "You were just sitting there, sleeping, for the longest time, then you started screaming and crying out of nowhere."

"Ach," she shuddered, recalling the gray figure once more, "I… I was having some awful nightmare."

"Well…" he paused, unsure how to proceed,"I'm here, it's okay." He went the paternal route and draped an arm around her, rubbing her back with his free hand.

"Sorry," she sighed, "I must've scared the heck out of you."

"A bit," he turned in to face her, so as to show precisely how worried he had been.

"What have you got there?" she indicated a small, rectangular, green item sitting beside him.

"Huh?" he had forgotten about the item and looked back, "Oh, just a treatise on the most effective way to implement the use of—"

"You're still working?" it was her turn to furrow her brow.

"Somehow," he breathed heavily, "I get the sense war is still on our horizon."

"But we're on our honeymoon," she frowned, "put that crap away."

"It's just a little side project," he provided, "Nothing to get your incredibly revealing panties in a twist over." He laughed mostly to himself and stole a glance around her waist.

"It's a swimsuit," she corrected dryly, more enthused by the fact that he was laughing.

Her tone soured again as she pouted, "I wish you wouldn't work yourself so hard."

"I need to," he admitted to the horizon,"it's… sort of the only thing that keeps me going. A good distraction."

"Distraction from what?" she tried to grab his attention.

He looked back to her wordlessly and pressed his thumb against her cheek to wipe away one of the drying streaks of tears left by her nightmare, "The sun will be setting before long. Care to watch?"

"Only if it's alongside you," she hazarded, leaning into him once more. Again, he smiled wordlessly, accepting her embrace.

As Robin had predicted, within several short minutes, the orange glow of the sun began to slowly draw over the sapphire waters which were now approaching a less exciting shade of gray, their clarity somehow making them less pleasant. Gradually, the fiery ball that had entreated them to their stay that morning was doused by the obfuscating ocean waters, and the darkness of night set in. Still, Anna held her husband, who the entire time made no noise nor gesture of moving. As the first silvery stars began to make their presences known, Anna looked up to her husband, "We're making a great waste, you know?"

"Huh?" he looked down, broken from a stupor.

"By not taking a swim, it's a waste of the ocean," she supposed.

"Oh," he nodded, relieved, "Well… I suppose a little dip couldn't hurt, now, could it?"

"Exactly," she was standing in an instant. She offered a hand to her husband as he was more lethargic in his getting up. He took it, and they both meandered into the water contentedly.

"It's colder than I thought," he announced following a loud exhale.

"Me too," Anna tried to keep her voice from shuddering.

Robin combed his slick fingers through his hair, shaking it and scattering beads of water into the ocean. "I've got sand all over me," he complained idly.

"I didn't think you'd be able to swim,"Anna admitted, treading water excitedly near him.

"I spent some time in the rivers and figured it out," he explained, briefly performing a breaststroke to demonstrate, "Mostly just a matter of keeping the legs moving."

"I see, I see," Anna nodded, circling stealthily to him, "But I wonder… did anyone teach you about… this?" She leapt onto his shoulders and shoved him underwater. She waited for his head to rise out of the water, waiting for the irritated expression and cry of anger, or, at least, of accepting amusement, and the flustered paranoia he would exhibit for the rest of the evening, but it never came. Instead, there was a sensation around her legs.

"Hey!" she cried indignantly, not entirely aware of the intention, though she became aware in a moment.

"They did, and I learned the counter pretty quickly," the tactician resounded with his first breath, emerging from the water. He presented the bottom of his wife's swimsuit teasingly in his hand.

"H-Hey!" she cried again, lunging for it,"Gimme that!"

"I don't think so!" he chuckled, dodging her grasps. With one great leap she made her closest bid for the article, but again he avoided her, and this time slipped his arm over her back and tugged at the first foreign item.

She gasped and brought her arm up to support the garment covering her chest, "You little…"

"You're right, Anna," he flashed a row of white teeth, "This was fun." He began to drift out of the water.

"Don't just float away grinning like a butcher's dog, you jerk! Get back here with my clothes!" she called after him in only half-feigned irritation.

"Can't hear you," he continued away, singsong.

She chased him to the shore, covering herself as best she was able, and, before he could dash for their lodging, she jumped forward and tackled him to the ground, "Give me that," she repeated with some noted annoyance, yanking the triangular garment from his hands.

"Why, Anna," he declared lavishly, "I wasn't aware you were so eager to get this night started."

"As if," she giggled, playfully shoving his face.

"Come on," he offered his hand to her as they managed themselves into standing positions, Anna quickly rejoining herself with her clothing. They made their way back up the beach, and Robin collected his cloak, but another book fell out of its pocket.

"Really?" she picked it up before he could, despite a desperate grab from the tactician. "What else were you planning on working on instead of spending time with me?" she giggled as she brushed sand from the cover. Staring at it for another minute, she had a realization, however, and laughed even harder, " _Lifetaker: Seduction_ , huh?"

The tactician blushed meekly and rubbed his neck, "It's… um… it was for…"

"I know that one, unseemly dark mages are more your thing, huh?" she pressed.

"I… I didn't… I was curious, all right?"he admitted, thoroughly embarrassed.

"At least read something with a plot, it's a bit more respectable," she threw the text at him. He let it fall away.

"C-Call it 'research'…" he laughed weakly.

"What do you mean?" she cocked an eyebrow interestedly.

"Want me to show you what I've learned?"he posed more confidently, offering his hand.

* * *

"I think that's quite enough," Robin sighed, covering his wife's hand with his own.

"And you wonder where she gets it from..." Anna teased, shoving an indicting finger in his face.

"Hey," he pouted indignantly, "the literature I read is all... substantial and of merit in its own way, not like that purposeless rubbish."

"I enjoyed _Lifetaker_ ," Morgan cheered, "But how did you feel about _Ana Anathema_?"

"Too girly and personalized for my tastes, Sarah's early works were better," Robin disparaged before coughing, "I mean, er, I never read any of those crazy books."

"You're such a fool," Anna lightly tapped the back of her husband's head.

"If a fool I must be, then a fool I am," he bowed in some deference.

"I wanted to ask, though..." Anna began, watching her husband carefully.

"Hm?" he returned his attention to her, causing her to take note of his eyes again. There was something wrong in them, a pallor she hadn't noticed before, but that now she noted especially remarkable after recalling her hideous dream, "When you said a 'distraction,' what..." Her remark was cut off as her husband's eyes went blank and he sank to his knees, crumpling unceremoniously to the floor.


	14. Contract

"I-Is he going to be okay?" the little redhead sobbed, on the verge of absolute despair.

"He should be fine," Anna hoped, stroking her husband's hair as he lay in the bed, eyes shut, "He's just running a very high fever."

"How can I help?" begged the girl, eyes positively soaked.

"Fetch me a wet rag," her mother ordered. The girl obeyed and had returned within several seconds. Anna took the towel and draped it over her husband's forehead delicately.

"Come on," Anna muttered to his deaf ears, "You can't leave us out to dry like this, you bastard."

"What now?" Morgan continued.

Her mother sighed shakily, "Nothing. We have to wait."

"What about your staves?" Morgan insisted.

"No good. They can mend broken bones and suture skin, but illnesses such as these are a horse of a different color," Anna explained worriedly.

"Tell me where to find this horse, I'll track it down, whatever the color," Morgan clenched her fist.

Anna shook her head, tempted to laugh, despite the gravity, "It's an idiom, sweetheart. What I meant is that it's a whole other situation."

"Oh," Morgan accepted flatly. She stood another moment before loudly declaring, "There must be something else we can do..."

"We've done everything we can," Anna disagreed.

"Do you really believe that?" Morgan challenged, "I can't stand just sitting here so impotently! The man's your husband, you have to be able to do something more!"

"How dare you!" Anna bit back, red-faced, "You don't think I would do something more if I could?!"

"I don't see you trying!" Morgan growled.

"I am your mother, and you will watch your mouth, princess," Anna returned, "I brought you into this world, and I can certainly bring you the other way 'round!"

"No you didn't!" Morgan screamed, "If I'm really from the future, that means my mother-my _real_ mother is dead!"

"Then so is your father, so what do you care?!" Anna argued.

"Don't you talk about him that way, you heartless harpy!" Morgan gritted her teeth, preparing to lunge at her mother.

Until a knock came at the door, "Hello? What's going on in there?"

"Shall I break it down, milord?" asked another voice.

"No, hold a minute," the first voice declined, knocking once more, "Anna, Robin, Morgan, are any of you in there?"

Anna hurried down the steps, moving out of Morgan's way carefully, then opened the door when she arrived, "Chrom?"

"There you are," he breathed, "I was worried. Where is Robin?"

She gestured up the stairs, "Not feeling well."

The remark had an immediate impact on the exalt's face, "Then... can it be true?"

"Can what be true?" Anna wondered with great concern.

"May we see him?" Chrom asked.

"Of course," Anna nodded, "But can _what_ be true?"

"We'll discuss it later," Chrom pushed his way through, Frederick at his back. The exalt took several minutes to stare at the retired tactician, motionless in bed, the sheets neatly matted around him. Despite one or two inquiries, Morgan, whose face and eyes were beet red, refused to leave her spot before his bed. Once he was satisfied, Chrom spoke up to Anna, "We heard screaming."

"That was Morgan and I..." Anna sighed, feeling guilty, "I don't know why I got angry, I just... this room feels so hot..."

"I was gonna say the same thing," Morgan reported hoarsely. "I'm sorry, mom. Please don't be mad at me," she pressed her index fingers together, injured.

"It's all right, dear," Anna cooed, walking over to the smaller redhead and putting an arm around her thin shoulders.

"I don't like this," Chrom reportedly simply, obviously disturbed by the story.

"Nor I, milord," Frederick concurred.

Chrom paused another moment, lost in thought, then abrupty faced Anna, "Will you be all right if Frederick and I leave for a bit to make a few inquiries?"

"Of course," Anna nodded.

"Good," he surmised, "I'll send someone... Stahl or Sully, to check up on you within the hour."

"Thank you," Anna nodded again, as if the reaction had been programmed. The exalt and his knight moved out of the house quietly. Anna seated herself on the bed, resisting the urge to bury her head in her hands.

"Mother," Morgan murmured ruefully, "I'm scared."

"I know, honey," Anna sighed mechanically, "me too."

"What can we do?" Morgan asked once more.

Again, Anna shook her head, "Nothing. We just have to wait and see."

"Father..." the smaller redhead exhaled, looking over his nigh-lifeless body, "he'll be okay, right? He has to be." Her mother began to nod, but said nothing, "Wake up, dad," Morgan demanded softly.

"I didn't think I'd ever see something like this..." Anna muttered, "Not again, anyway."

"Again?" her daughter caught on.

"No, no," Anna waved her hand.

"But... what if what happened before holds some clue to helping him now? What then, mother?" Morgan begged. When her mother didn't answer, she raised her voice, but cried instead of shouting, "You _have_ to tell me."

Anna stared at the floor dejectedly, "All right, it was in the evening, one night, before the battle with Gangrel. Your father had been telling me about an earlier encounter with the man... in the loosest sense... that we now know as Validar."

* * *

"It troubled me greatly, it was almost as if I could feel my blood trying to pull right out of my body," Robin sighed tensely.

"So the guy said he knew you," Anna dismissed casually, "big whoop. It doesn't mean anything."

"Still, I recall his tone of voice almost every night and feel my heart cringe at the sound... I don't like the sensation or the implication so much as one bit, Anna," he forced.

"Well, keep your chin up, there's a more pressing issue at hand, isn't there?" Anna bumped him with her elbow.

"I suppose," he agreed disappointedly with the sky, "but… something really bothers me about this. After this war is ended, I think I'll look into whatever group planned this assassination."

"I think the guard has been investigating that already," Anna noted.

"Then I'll pick up after them and take that organization down,"Robin affirmed, briefly clenching his fist.

"Don't be so gung-ho, Mister 'War is Hell,'" Anna jostled him with an arm around his shoulder.

He wasn't dissuaded, "I'm going to take care of this, then I can put my mind at ease."

"It's always like that for you, isn't it?" Anna supposed, "'Just one more fight, and then they'll all be over,' except they never are."

He laughed grimly, "It's true. But what do you propose I do about it?"

"Maybe… follow your own path, huh? Make the decisions that are best for you," the redhead begged.

Robin nodded, "Well, for me, that will still include bringing down those assassins."

Anna frowned, "Well, then be careful, at least, all right?"

"Are you worried about me?" he smirked.

"I'd rather not see you dead, sure," Anna nodded, reciprocating his smirk.

"Well, thanks," he sighed earnestly.

"We should be getting to bed," she encouraged, grabbing his wrist.

"Right," he concurred, taking a few steps forward, however, he was shortly halted in his tracks as he clutched the sides of his head. He shouted, feeling a ringing in his ears that deafened him.

"Robin?" Anna turned back in shock, "What the hell?"

He made no reply, aside from guttural moans as he sank to the ground, still clutching each side of his head as if it would fall off if he failed to do so, a look of unbelievable pain etched onto his face.

"Gods," Anna rushed over and lowered herself to his body, "Robin, are you all right? Can you hear me at all?" As soon as she had uttered the words, Anna cursed herself. Of course he couldn't hear her, and of course he wasn't fine, but she didn't know what else to do. There had to be some way to help him. She glanced around, hoping to find something that would give her an idea, but only found her panic rising: for once, their late-night antics had led to a detriment. No one else was around to see or hear them, and she feared gravely that if she failed to do something soon, it would be far too late for the tactician. Not having any other plans, Anna returned to her old standby and pressed on the tactician's chest, trying to resuscitate him. After several presses, she leaned her ear by his mouth and nose to check if he was breathing. Nothing. She broke into a cold sweat, shoving on his chest again, checking again to hear nothing. "Robin?" she called, her voice shaking as if she'd forgotten how to speak. Another round of presses, still nothing. "Robin!" she throttled his shoulders, her own hands now trembling. She tried once more and still received no response. Her eyes narrowed, was this it? Was the tactician dead because she hadn't known what to do? Gods, there were so many things left to say… She couldn't bear the thought, but she couldn't bring herself to let it go, either. She wanted so desperately to try again, to bring up her hands to pound on his chest until he awoke, but her hands refused to move. Slowly, unbearably certain of the fact that the tactician was dead, her eyelids shut, and she drifted to sleep.

This was not a normal sleep, however. Anna could discern that much immediately. She picked herself up, feeling utterly hazy, and meandered about the empty darkness that seemed to encircle her. It was unfamiliar and unfriendly, and Anna could feel that some presence had set its eyes upon her from within the darkness. Eventually, in her stumbling forward, she came across the tactician, standing on some sort of glowing sigil, as if he were unaware that it was even there.

"Robin?" she called reaching a hand out to touch his back. The figure stepped away before she could make contact, then turned himself around. There was something different about this man, Anna determined. He was not the same as her husband… something was wrong, something was off. "You're not Robin," she remarked aloud. The figure shook his head slowly in agreement. "Then… who are you?" she begged.

"The Id," the figure responded, a small but unmistakably malicious smile trailing across his face.

"Do… Do you know what's happening to him?" Anna hoped, assuming they both knew who she was talking about.

"My, but you're a pretty thing," the figure noted, ignoring her.

"Robin," she reaffirmed, "What's happened to Robin?"

"He's growing closer to his destiny, that's all," the figure acknowledged enigmatically.

"Destiny?" Anna raised an eyebrow, "What are you talking about?"

"You really are beautiful," the figure pressed on, drawing closer. Anna struggled to move her legs, but found herself rooted to the spot. "Oh, no, don't go. We have a lot to talk about, you and I."

"I… Let me go," she fought.

"Let's have words, hm?" pleaded the figure.

Anna folded her arms obstinately, "I've got nothing to say to you."

"Familiar," the figure sighed, dipping his head.

"Beg pardon?" Anna looked at him carefully.

"You reminded me very greatly of someone I once knew," the figure elaborated.

"What do you want with Robin and I?" insisted the redhead, fatigued of the conversation already.

"What I want for Robin is the same as you," he nodded, "only the best. Health and happiness for all his days."

"What are you?" Anna inspected the figure, not listening, "Some kind of magical construct? Are you born of a curse?"

"There are some who may call me a curse, yes," he chuckled gently,"but a curse of blood, darling."

"A curse of blood," Anna took the words in, "Do you have anything to do with that 'Validar?'"

"Much less than he should think," the figure chuckled once more, "But I do owe him some small part of my existence."

"Then I ask again," she breathed, "What do you want with Robin?"

"Might we forget Robin a moment?" hoped the figure, drawing up to the young woman and watching her carefully.

"No," Anna declared definitely, matching the figure's stare.

She was perplexed when it caused him to smile, "Good, good. So you do care."

"Tell me what you want!" she insisted, balling her fists.

"There's no call for such ire," he frowned, as if he had been insulted at a dinner party, "Young lady… all I desire is a… renaissance, if you will. A new start to all things… to correct my mistakes."

"You're so full of it," she rejected, turning her attention away.

"But it's the truth!" she started as the figure suddenly appeared, clutching her chin, "All I intend for is to set things right!" She hesitated but did not respond, still shocked to paralysis by his presence. "Ah, but forgive me, I forget myself," he sighed more quietly, stepping back. "My dear, do you suppose you have any idea what it's like to have… nothing?" he offered his hand.

"I don't believe I understand," she admitted.

"Of course," he turned, dismayed, "Of course. You couldn't. Mine is a rather unique predicament… although, in a way, not so much."

"Could you stop speaking in riddles and get to the point?" Anna yelled irritably.

"Yes, yes, I'm a fool," he held his head like a flustered bridegroom,"I come before you to explain my… loss. I made a choice that earned me the rejection of another, one I'd loved all my life, and now, left with nothing, I come on my hands and knees."

"You're proposing?" Anna was completely bewildered, "I don't think I can accept something like that."

"No, of course you can't," the figure cursed himself again, "I…would only ask you to forgive Robin his… eccentricities, to avail yourself of his company, even when circumstances seem strange. It is his desire."

"Does that have something to do with why you look like him?" Anna pressed.

"It does," the figure nodded, avoiding divulging anything further.

"So, you were called into existence by Validar and bear the form of Robin, and you seek to correct 'mistakes,' one of which you claim includes the loss of the love of your life… Do I have all that right?" Anna recounted.

"Quite," he nodded absently.

"Then why have you come to me? Why not speak to Robin directly?"Anna asked.

"Alack, I have tried," the figure clutched his heart, "but your friend's ears are deaf. I believe he fears and rejects my presence."

"As would I," she muttered.

"But you," she started as he appeared beside her again, arm around her shoulder, "you can commune openly with him; he does not fear you. If you knew the truth, you could help him."

"And what is the truth?" she perpetuated, not knowing why.

"I can show you some of it," he nodded, snapping his fingers. Anna beheld it, horror instantly rising in her mind. The image she saw was of a burning Ylisstol, collapse and death abound. The end of the world, she determined, that was what she was looking at. At once, she saw Robin—no, not her Robin, but one who more resembled the figure beside her. He dashed through the wreckage, leaping, sprinting over hazards toward his destination. She heard him yell, "Anna!"

"What is this?" Anna shook her head, reviled.

"What is to be," the figure breathed.

"Anna!" the other Robin shouted in evident panic. Anna could hear his voice becoming hoarse and despair was upon his face, "Anna!" He shoved his way through the door of a wooden building, "Damn it all," he muttered to himself. "Anna!" he cried once more, pushing through the debris. At last, he took to the top floor, "Anna!" he shouted again, finally seeing her. Anna watched the image and felt sick, seeing the bruised, battered image of herself perched before a window in the small house. "Anna, come on!" pleaded the panicked young man, offering his hand.

"I'm not going with you," she turned her head.

"Anna, please!" he begged, clearly in no mood.

"You know you did this," she pointed an accusing finger at him. His face fell in horror.

"Anna, don't do anything drastic," he tried to approach her.

"You've gone too far," she rejected.

"Anna, please, I love you," he offered his hand.

"Not anymore, you don't," Anna could see the tears welling in the reflection's eyes.

"ANNA!" the young man leapt forward. Too late, the depicted Anna hopped toward the window and sank like a stone. Anna cringed, and she saw the figure beside her turn away in disgust. The image before her showed the other Robin again, collapsed on the ground outside the small building, huddling over a mass. Anna couldn't bear to look as she saw the miserable image of Robin sobbing over her corpse, their bodies encircled by flame. She could hear no voice from him, but saw the wreaths of the blaze reflected in his eyes, which themselves smoldered of their own accord and seemed to have been shattered, broken, lifeless, as if he had been struck blind in that moment. It went on painfully, miserably, the young man shaking the lifeless body, seeming to expect it to spring to life. First, he clutched it by the arms and legs, then he focused his attention to her head, kissing it and making tiny pleas, sobbing all the while. Anna wasn't sure if he was really speaking, or if she had become deaf by her own accord, but she could hardly withold her emotions, staring at the frantic image of the young man, vying desperately for some way to keep her alive. He looked this way and that, searching out help, but no matter which way he turned, his head eventually made its way back to the center and revisited the same inescapable conclusion, which only heightened his frenzy. Anna gritted her teeth as tears began to pool in her eyes. Eventually, she saw the figure settle before the corpse, hanging his head over it, covering his head with his cowl. Rain poured down onto the two of them. Or was it ash? There was no way to tell. The figure sat, motionless, as builing after building crumbled around them.

"Why have you shown me all this?" Anna wondered, shielding her eyes.

The image disappeared, "So that you can understand."

"Understand what?" she was frustrated.

"Don't you see?" he sighed, "This is what lies before you."

"You mean... Are you trying to say this is the future?" Anna reasoned.

The figure nodded gravely, "And I think you'll agree it's one we'd all rather avoid."

"So... that was..." Anna hesitated.

"Me. And you," he concurred.

"But why? What happened to Ylisstol?" Anna pressed.

"That..." he breathed heavily, "I cannot say."

"Then how do you expect me to help?" Anna demanded.

"Don't leave Robin the way you did here, that's what I'm asking," he concluded.

She stood in thought for a moment before calling something to attention: "The, er, me in that image... She said this had been your fault."

"Perhaps she was mistaken," the figure gritted his teeth.

"But, then... why? What mistake did you make that you came back here to rectify?" the redhead caught on.

"The only mistake I ever made was losing you," he cried back in desperation.

"But why did she, I, choose that way out? What did you do?" the young woman was adamant.

"Nothing! You hear me? Nothing!" the figure's eyes glowed with an unsettling pinkish color.

"Perhaps you really haven't learned from your mistakes," Anna gathered coolly.

"I've learned plenty!" he growled, "I had to live on in anguish for decades! Emptiness ruled my every moment! All I had beyond you were the children, and they...!" He paused, considering that he might have said too much.

"Which children?" Anna wondered.

"It doesn't matter now," the figure decided, "What say you? Will you willfully be mine, or do I have to strike your mind like the others?"

"Strike my mind?" Anna worried, then drummed up her resolve, "I guess you'll have to, because there's no way I'd give myself over to some... thing like you."

He growled again, and his nostrils flared, but he restrained himself, "Don't make me do this... I don't want you to be like the others. I care about you, Anna."

"It seems to me that if you truly cared for me, you let me remain of my own volition," she argued.

"But don't you see?" he yelled, "I love you! I can give you anything it is that you desire!"

"What I desire is to be free. Did you not figure that out?" Anna spat, recalling the supposed vision of her future self.

"Freedom..." the figure grumbled, "Why do you all so desire so useless a device? What good is your freedom? It leads to early deaths and pained farewells."

"But it also leads to unexpected friendships... and maybe more," Anna noted, hoping to find some remnant of Robin within this figure.

"Bah, your kind are beyond my ken," he disparaged, throwing his hand out.

"Our kind?" Anna repeated, "What are you, really?"

"It does not matter," the figure sighed, "I will break you, like the others, and then you will be mine."

"Why?" Anna begged, "Why does your control mean so much to you?"

"You would never accept me as I am. What you saw was proof of that," the figure observed simply.

"Perhaps because what you were was awful," Anna frowned, balling her fists in resolution. The figure growled again and glared at her. "But," she continued, "perhaps if you would be willing to change your ways, it might be possible for you to find the happiness you seek."

The figure ruminated on the consideration she had offered for a moment, mulling it around in his mind, pacing a bit, before he reached a conclusion. "No," he declared distastefully, "to one end, I can never reverse my actions, but to another, I think, in base, I don't truly wish to. I wanted you back, that was it. There is no way I can sacrifice everything else for that."

She started, then scowled, "Well, then I'm sorry."

"So am I," the figure's eyes fell. "Go on," he waved a hand.

"What?" Anna found herself availed of her legs again.

"Walk into the darkness and you will be brought back. Go on, before I reverse my decision," he elaborated.

"You know, you could just..." Anna hazarded.

"Go," he repeated more definitely, "You are too sickeningly avowed of your virtues for me." He spat the words, but his eyes resembled those of a scolded infant. "Just know that when the time comes... firstly, that I gave you this chance, and that at that time I will provide you another."

"Right," Anna began to march away, confused.

"Something to think about," the voice reminded in a tone the most reminiscent of Robin's that Anna had come to hear from him.

Taking more and more paces away from the strange figure, Anna began to see light surrounding her. Before long, she found herself awake once more, her head buried in between the tactician's neck and the top of his chest, now heaving as he breathed heavily, sleepily in the morning light. She pushed herself up, also causing the tactician to rouse himself.

"Oh, er, Anna," he wiped his face gracelessly.

"Robin," she stifled a sob, glad to see him as he was. She failed in completely witholding her joy, however, and embraced him tightly.

"What's gotten into you?" he smiled groggily, "Ah, that kind of hurts..."

"Shut up," she pressed her head into his neck.

He looked about a moment, temporarily pleased, but started when he recalled, "What happened last night?"

Anna wondered if he had seen anything like what she had, then put forward, "You were struck by some illness or other. I cared for you out here, on the spot. I suppose I must've worn myself out trying to treat you."

"Then I suppose I owe you a great thanks," he offered, beaming earnestly at her.

"Just... don't stop being you, Robin," she chuckled, lightly teasing his hair.

"Okay..." he accepted, confused, "But... why don't you let me take you into town for lunch, at least, hm? My treat."

She smiled with great relief, "I'll take you up on that." She hooked her arm around the young man's, "We'd best get back to camp, first, though. Naga knows Chrom will be cross with us if he doesn't know where we are."

* * *

"...You don't think..." Morgan hazarded as her mother finished her recollection.

"I hope to whatever gods exist not," Anna cut her off, contemplating her bedridden husband.

"We killed the Fell Dragon, didn't we? It shouldn't be..." Morgan determined to herself. A knock came at the door. Stahl, who had appeared at some point during Anna's story, but had never been acknowledged by either party, both enraptured by the reminiscence, stood to answer it silently. It was Chrom once more. The exalt frowned as he regarded his friend still limp in bed.

"No improvement in his condition?" he asked without hope.

"Not that I could see," Anna sighed, dejected.

"We brought in a few, er, experts..." Chrom seemed markedly displeased to bear the news. He gestured to Tharja, Libra, and Henry, lined up in the other room, each of whom then took the opportunity to enter and look at the former tactician's fallen form.

"This... isn't right," Tharja muttered, sounding much as if she had been impaled with a spear.

"Not too much funny about that," Henry almost frowned, staring at the body. He still allowed a chuckle to escape his lips.

"Naga save him," Libra shook his head, "the poor soul."

"Why are you all here?" Anna asked.

"It's likely Robin's illness is more than a physical one," Libra announced.

"He really shouldn't look like this," Tharja continued to growl like a mother bear discovering an injured cub.

"Turns out murdering the guy with an intrinsic link to your heart might not have been the best idea," Henry laughed. He lost his wind quickly when no one else seemed to find it funny, "What, too soon?"

"What has Grima's heart got to do with this?" Anna's brow knitted in concern.

"The heart within Robin," Tharja admired the former tactician's face like fine china, "was still weak. Now that he's lost the power that is supporting him... there's a chance he may be... slowly deteriorating."

"D-Deteriorating?" Anna's mind went blank, "You mean he's... he's..." She couldn't bring herself to utter the word.

"I don't know," Tharja declined decidedly.

"We'll do all we can, we swear it, my lady," Libra pledged.

"Yeah, even if I have to take it all on myself. A slow, painful death could be kind of exciting. Maybe even stimulating, in a way," Henry supposed gleefully.

"Don't say that word!" Morgan cried half in anger and half in despair at the dark mage.

"Perhaps Morgan oughtn't be here..." Libra wondered.

Chrom concurred, "Henry, why don't you see young Morgan out of here?"

"Sure thing," he offered his hand to the little girl, "Heya kiddo, long time no see. I've got a couple of new ones for you: what's the difference between Exalt Emmeryn and a dinner plate?"

"Not nor, Mr. Henry," she pouted, "I'm really not in the mood." The little girl pushed the visitors aside and sidled up onto her father's bed, cupping his cheek in her small hand. "Father... please be all right."

At that moment, his eyes slowly drifted open, showing the little girl's small frame and bloodshot eyes peering over him. "Morgan?" he announced groggily, "Honey, you look worn ragged. What's happened?"

"Father!" she started in disbelief, clutching his neck immediately, refusing to let go.

Robin took stock of the remainder of the room, "And what's everyone gathered here for, eh? Seems I've missed quite the spectacle. His wife shushed him, placing a finger over his lips as she also tucked herself into him, sobbing noiselessly. "I take it today's been a bit of a tough day. I guess that's what I get for taking some time off."

Anna resisted the urge to slap him and kissed him on the lips, grasping at the back of his head to ensure he was still there.

"When Emmeryn falls off a cliff, everything gets fixed!" Henry decided to finish through to his punchline.

"Let's allow Robin some time to his family," Chrom suggested, leading his "experts' away with a gesture. Tharja found it difficult to tear herself away: she, too, wanted to throw herself around the tactician in joy for finding him alive.

"I take it this isn't to renew our vows," Robin quipped, holding his wife.


	15. Precious

Anna stood and wiped her eyes, deciding that more tears were an inappropriate way to greet her husband from his sudden departure. Sighing, she straightened her hair as best she could and slapped her cheeks lightly to ensure she was looking awake and alive, although the evening brought with it some rather deadening circumstances. She could hear her husband's voice in the other room, having taken their daughter to bed some time ago. Likely the child was still fussing and not prepared to say goodnight to her father after the episode they all had just experienced, but Robin had proven a very persuasive guide for his daughter, so Anna was not concerned, even if it meant a bit of extra time to calm the girl down. Careful not to make any unnecessary noise, Anna stepped daintily down the hall and drifted to the threshold of her daughter's room, hearing the volume of her husband's voice pick up.

Their daughter lay in his arms, her eyes softly shut, as he sang lowly, " _Into each life some rain must fall…/ But too much is falling in mine_." Finishing and exaggerating the last note, he lowered the girl softly to the bed and faced his wife, smiling weakly. She beckoned him back down the hall.

"That was a lovely song," she mused, "Where did you learn it?"

"I can't recall," he admitted half-heartedly, "Amnesia and all." They walked in silence another moment before arriving in the room.

"So," he began pensively, preparing himself, "Tell me now, what's all this about?"

"Chrom has heard some… whispers. And now he fears that you might be…" she choked, obviously unwilling to continue.

"What sort of whispers?" the former tactician creased his brow.

"He tells me Naga came to him in a dream, or something to that effect," Anna looked aside, knowing her husband would not accept the explanation.

"That figures," the tactician folded his arms, unimpressed, "But then, why are you so bothered, Anna? Surely you can see that it's superstitious nonsense."

"I'm… not so sure anymore," her eyes fell forward.

"Anna, what are you not telling me?" he watched her carefully.

She frowned, inhaling deeply before looking up, "They think you're dying, Robin. Slowly, but dying. And, honestly, I can't blame them; you look more exhausted every day I see you. It weighs on a wife, you know, to see her husband looking as if he hasn't slept in a century every morning?"

"I'm sorry it upsets you," he replied with control, "but you shouldn't let this break you down so, darling. It's my cross to bear."

"What an answer!" she pushed back, frustrated, "I'm supposed to be taking care of you, and you to me. That's what married folk are meant to do. Do you mean to say I shouldn't be bothered that my husband is slowly dying and there's nothing I can do about it?"

"No, Anna, no," he held his hands out, "Of course not. I appreciate how much you care for me, I only wish you wouldn't worry yourself to death for it. We're all dying slowly, aren't we?"

"Don't talk like that!" she shook her head, the moisture returning to her eyes.

"Anna," he affirmed simply, grasping her wrist. She started, as, briefly, an image of the man who had stood before her on her wedding day was called to her mind, and now stared her in the face with a meek but strangely reassuring smile. "If I don't have a lot of time," he consoled, "then we shouldn't waste it with tears, all right?"

She tried to shake away, to be upset once more, to cry out in defense of her fears, but still her husband held her wrist, and she felt oddly satisfied by the pressure binding her hand. "Robin… I just want…" she grasped, feeling a sudden delirium capture her.

He escorted her to their bed and helped her lay down, settling himself in next to her after a moment, and he began rubbing her shoulder gently, "You look pale, honey. Why don't we both get some rest?"

Given some of her previous experiences, having relived them recently, to sleep was rather the last thing Anna desired at the moment. She found it difficult, however, to raise her voice in protest. "Don't go," she muttered uselessly, fully aware that her husband had no designs to leave.

"I'm not going anywhere," he said softly, cupping her cheek with his palm. She lapsed into his hand, feeling it warm and deriving more comfort from it than she could imagine. She rubbed herself against it like a purring cat.

"You're exhausted," Robin determined, hearing her voice echo in his mind. He wrapped his arm around her and embraced her. Being frankly unaware of what else to do, Anna murmured sleepily as she worked herself more wholly into his embrace, endeavoring clumsily to kiss his cheek and his lips before lowering her head and tucking it beneath his chin, so that she could feel his chest swelling and deflating with each breath beneath her. It didn't take Anna long to find sleep, so comforted, and she knew not why, but she began to think of her husband as he was when she had just met him, reminded of a story he would not dare tell their daughter. For the first time that she could recall in the day, Anna felt herself smile as the events replayed themselves in her mind.

* * *

"Robin?" the young princess declared inquisitively. The tactician was pacing about the otherwise empty barracks, his head practically in his hands, sighing and sweating like a father waiting on his first child.

"Lissa," he said more like an exclamation than a response. He covered, "I didn't hear you come in."

"I don't think I've seen you sweat so hard in practice. What's going on?" she asked amusedly.

He had to think, "I… I don't—it's nothing."

"Well, gee, you sure convinced me," she folded her arms, electing to take a seat at the table in the center of the room, "Come on, you can tell me, Robin. What's on your mind?"

"Honestly, it's nothing," he denied, still looking very unconvincing of that determination.

"I've seen Chrom get that look before," the princess recalled," Lady troubles?"

"I don't know about that, per se," the tactician rubbed his neck. He was getting nowhere. Perhaps, instead, he should try to take advantage of the opportunity, "Erm, say, Lissa?"

She looked up, "Yeah?"

"Suppose there was a lad you fancied," Robin began nervously, already regretting the statement, "What do you suppose you should like him to do for you?"

She laughed at the absurdity of the question, causing Robin to hang his head in crimson embarrassment. "I'm sorry," she said with a smile, indicating that that was a lie, "What are you getting at, Robin?"

"Never mind, I'm sorry I asked," he tried to leave without raising his head.

"No, no, hold on," she halted him, "Is our amnesiac tactician in love? This is big news! And I'd be more than happy to help see it through."

"I-It's not… like that," he glanced to either side, as if anticipating an audience, his teeth all but chattering, "I just… I want to show her that she has a friend in me. She seems all alone, sometimes…"

"Aw," Lissa clasped her hands together, "that's sweet enough as it is."

"Do you think you can help me, Lissa?" the tactician asked carefully.

"Of course, Robin," she smiled, "I'll get you on the fast track to Relationship Town in no time." She pulled him away by the arm. Robin sighed; this had been a mistake.

"Okay!" Lissa declared instructively when they both had been led away to an inconspicuous corner of camp, "First thing's first: You've introduced yourself, right?"

"Of course," he nodded.

"Good!" the declared emphatically, "Next: do you know her favorite food?"

Robin raised an eyebrow at the question, "Er, she seemed to have a predilection for potatoes at dinner…"

"Come on, Robin," Lissa put her hands on her hips, "Potatoes are soldiers' food. Ladies need proper, delicately prepared nourishment. Beautifully glazed meats or fancy little cakes, that sort of thing."

"And where am I to get that sort of thing?" Robin barked back.

"Like anything worthwhile in love, it has to come from the heart," the princess explained dreamily.

"I don't think I can very well cook my heart for her," the tactician retorted, uncertain of to what extent this conversation was serious.

Lissa rolled her eyes, "No, you dummy, I mean you have to make it for her yourself."

"Me?" he started, "I've never cooked a thing in my life. …Er, that I can recall, anyway."

"Well, it's not gonna hurt to try," the princess resounded,"Homemade snacks are the fastest way to a girl's heart, trust me."

"Are you sure that's not just you?" Robin evaluated the girl snidely.

"Yes I'm sure!" she jumped, "Do you want my help or not?"

"Fine, fine," he sighed, "So… how do I go about making such things?"

"Gimme a minute," ordered the princess, leaving the small area. After a minute, she returned with a book that was orangish, but stained with the brown of age and decay at every corner. "A book of recipes," she explained,"Emm made us cakes and the like all the time when we were little." She opened to a page at random, licked her thumb to leaf through the text a bit, flipping a few pages, then threw her index finger down on a line, "Here!"

"Figgy pudding?" the tactician read.

"Sure," she cheered, "it's perfect! You like figs, right?"

"I do," he nodded, "but they're a bit rare around here, wouldn't you say?"

"No trouble. Watch this," Lissa smirked, cupping her hands in front of her mouth.

"Frederick!" she called. It took less than a minute for the knight to rush over to their position, armor and all.

"What is it, milady?" he assumed dutifully, hurrying to her position.

"I hate to be a bother," she sighed coyly, "but I have something of a hankering for figs. Do you suppose you might be able to procure some for me?"

"Naturally, my lady," his disposition softened a bit, seeing no danger at hand, "Only give me a bit of time."

"Aw, you're the best, Freddy-boy," she punched his shoulder softly. Not a good idea; she heard her hand crack against the armor.

"Please don't call me that," he sighed, "and take care not to injure yourself. I won't be long." No sooner had the knight said it than he had set off for the elusive fruits. Half an hour passed uneventfully with the tactician yawning, nervously awaiting the knight so as to avoid having to endure the questioning were anyone to happen upon he and Lissa at the moment, clandestine and refusing to look at one another. Mercifully, however, Frederick soon returned and presented them with the necessary ingredient.

"Here you are, milady," he offered the scarlet fruits from a small rucksack.

"Thank you, Frederick," she accepted them with wide-eyed admiration, "You take such good care of Chrom and I, Frederick, You're the best."

"I do what I can, milady," he replied with a proud smile.

"That will be all, if you don't mind," she said sweetly. Frederick bowed in deference and left them.

"Now, get to work!" Lissa ordered, handing Robin the fruits. He sighed, rolling his eyes and took them.

* * *

"Looks great!" Lissa lauded, staring at the confection. Robin appreciated the praise, but couldn't even begin to agree. It looked more like a purple-and-blackish mess with bits of fig hastily mashed in, swirling among the occasional crust from the loaves that had been used to thicken the crème. Honestly, he didn't find it at all appetizing, and rather believed it to be a bit repulsive.

"I can't give this to her," he sighed, frowning at the dish, "It doesn't even look edible."

"Aw," Lissa cooed again, "you're getting jitters! That's sooo cute!"

"No, I really don't think anyone can eat this," he stared carefully at his handiwork.

"It'll be fine!" Lissa pushed, first metaphorically, then literally drove the tactician forward, "Just go for it! You'll never know!"

Rolling his eyes once more, Robin began to walk to the young woman's tent. He had only just met this girl and had no idea how she would react to him showing up with dessert at her meager lodging. He found himself immediately crippled by embarrassment: wouldn't he look a fool, showing up unannounced to the door of a woman he had eaten with once bearing a gift. This was horrible, he sighed, unbearable, to do something so silly as this. He felt sweat on his forehead once more as he carried the unappealing thing forward. It would be terrible, and she would be frightened and disgusted by his advances, and he would never hear from her again. Oh, gods, this was too much.

"Um, hey?" the scarlet-haired woman called out, standing in front of her tent, breaking the tactician's muddled stupor.

"Oh, uh, er, hi!" he responded a bit too loudly for his own taste, rubbing his neck, still balancing the dessert on other hand.

"Hi," she nodded. When the tactician said nothing in reply, she indicated the onyx lump with her finger, "What's that you've got there?"

"Oh, this?" he looked down to the dish, as if he had forgotten it was there and was now, too, surprised to see it, "J-Just a little dessert I made."

"I didn't know you were the type for baking," she smiled innocently.

"I'm not, ordinarily," he grumbled mostly to himself.

"Then what's the occasion?" she wondered.

"How's that?" he picked his head up.

"You said you're not ordinarily in the habit of baking, so, why have you baked this… um…"

"It's, ahem, figgy pudding," he declared without even a glimpse of pride in his work, "and… I made to, uh… to welcome you. You know, to the Shepherds."

"Oh," she looked at the mass, "Well, thank you. As much as I'd love to, I, uh, don't think I can accept. …Trying to, uh, watch my figure, you know."

"Right, of course," he sighed bitterly, "I… I'm sorry for wasting your time." He hastened himself away, the dish falling from his hands but managing to not be sullied by the ground.

"W-Wait!" Anna called loosely after him. He was already out of her sight, "That was strange." Seeing the dish still present, she looked down and ventured to pick it up. Shrugging, she took a bit of the bread that had been provided with the gelatinous substance and dipped it, then proceeding to take a bite. She was startled as she ate it, "That's… actually really good." She looked around to see if anyone else was there to hear her remark and took another dip and ate once more. "Mm!" she lauded, her mouth full. Suddenly, she felt less pleased, however: she had flatly rejected the man who had been so kind as to prepare it for her. She would need to go apologize and make clear her fervent recanting of her earlier refusal.

"Well how did it go?" Lissa inquired optimistically as the tactician trod sulkily by.

"It didn't work. Of course it didn't," he sighed with frustration, "why would she ever want anything to do with me?"

"Now, don't be like that," the princess encouraged, "we just need to get you back on that horse. Let's think of a new plan."

"Forget it," he denied, "I don't forsee things getting any better. I give up."

"That's awfully pessimistic for the most ardent and stubborn tactician I've ever met," Lissa folded her arms again.

"What did you have in mind?" he sighed.

"Go check out her tent and gather some info. You'll be sure to find something she likes then," Lissa smiled.

He rolled his eyes, "I am _not_ going to break into her private quarters just to see what she likes!"

"Then what are you going to do?" the princess posed unaffectedly.

"I... I don't know..." he stammered.

"Just give it a try," she resounded, patting his shoulder, "It'll be fine, no one has to know."

"Are you sure?" he looked down at the girl worriedly.

"Positive," she swept her hand out reassuringly.

"I suppose it couldn't hurt, if she happens to be out for a minute..." he scratched his neck, "This isn't one of your pranks, is it?"

"Of course not!" she rebuked, offended, "I'd never mess around with something this important."

He shook his head derisively, "Fine, but you are to tell no one about this."

"Obviously," she nodded.

Robin watched as the scarlet haired woman sauntered by them, not noticing them in their clandestine locale, she seemed to be worried about something, "I guess I should go check now."

"So..." Lissa smirked, "It's her, then, eh?"

"Not a word," the tactician repeated.

"Obviously," she did the same.

Quickly and quietly, Robin hurried over to the tent that had served as the young woman, Anna's, lodging for her time in the Shepherds. When he arrived, he drifted slowly inside, taking care despite the fact that he had just seen her walk by in the opposite direction. He already felt uncomfortable scanning through her belongings, but was somewhat calmed to find little out of the ordinary. Supplies lined the majority of the meager living space, stacks of vulneraries nearly reached the top of the tent and were balanced precariously on top of one another, swords were splayed out on the ground in an incredibly haphazard and almost definitely hazardous manner, and piles of gold coins were sitting in bulging burlap sacks all across the remainder of the space. Robin rolled his eyes, what else might a merchant woman have? Suddenly, an article in the room caught his eye: a small stuffed bear. He had seen similar toys clutched by little girls and also recalled that the redheaded woman wore a small one around the hilt of her sword which, when sheathed, limply and yet cheerily adorned her belt. Looking around he saw another of the fuzzy creatures, then another, and still one more. Perhaps that was what she was fond of... but why might that be? He shook his head; now wasn't the time for such questions. Another of the fluffy little objects caught his eye and he decided to pick it up. As he did so, something small and soft fell from it, as if it had been holding on to the item. Shrugging, Robin picked it up and unbunched the thing, finding it to be made of some fabric. He had never seen anything its like before; it seemed to be an article of clothing, but he couldn't dream a practical use for something so small. Amusingly, it, too, featured a small, hand-woven bear design on the front and a round mound of brown with a small tail on the other side, probably to indicate the front and back, Robin determined. He held the triangular piece of fabric in front of his face, studying it, just in time for Anna to part the tent flaps and stare him in the face.

"Uh, what are you doing with that?" Anna stared forward, blushing and simultaneously horrified.

He dropped his hands, "Oh, I was just, um... I didn't... I was wondering whether..."

She approached him more angrily, "Were you going to steal my favorite pair of smallclothes?"

"Smallclothes?" he repeated, shocked, "Y-You mean... this is...?" He dropped the garment like a vicious animal. His eyes narrowed as he pleaded to the redhead, "I can explain, you have to believe... I had no idea..."

She lowered herself onto the floor expectantly, "This ought to be good."

* * *

Morgan woke up and stretched her arms with a yawn. Morning had come, and she had slept in, the sun already much higher in the sky than when she typically woke up. She scratched her head and made her way into her parents' room to start the day on a more positive note than the previous one. Today was a special day for Morgan, after all. "Mother, father?" she called softly, paying she wasn't interrupting anything.

Her mother answered with a sleepy groan, "Morning, Morgan, honey."

"Morning, mom," she returned dutifully. Upon peering into the room she added, "Where is father?"

Anna looked about, also realizing his absence, "I don't..." Her eyes fell on a small handwritten note at her side. She muttered as she read, "'Into town'... 'Chrom'..." she sighed, though she didn't dare tell her daughter what she was thinking. "Seems he went out, sweetie," she said neutrally.

"Oh," the little redhead's eyes fell, more than evidently disappointed. "Do you know what today is, mother?" she hoped.

"Uh... the fifth of May?" her mother noted tiredly, sitting up.

"Mm-hm," she nodded, waiting for something else to follow.

Anna was struck with realization, "Oh, gods, Morgan, that's right! Your birthday! ...I'm sorry, honey, I was so wrapped up with... you know... I didn't really have any time to..."

Morgan frowned, "I... I get it."

"I'm sorry, honey," her mother also frowned sympathetically.

"I'm... gonna go play outside for a bit, I think," Morgan let her bangs cover her face sullenly.

"All right," her mother remained conciliatory, "don't wander off, please."

She muttered in agreement and walked outside, kicking dirt as she got out into the fields. She was simply beside herself with disappointment, not having any idea what to do next. Morgan looked up to the sun, searching for an answer, but found nothing. She felt herself begin to cry: this was the sign, wasn't it? She wasn't meant to be here, among her parents, spoiling their lives by being in the way all the time. They hadn't even remembered her birthday, she was such a nuisance to them, such an afterthought. The little redhead flopped to the ground and wiped her wet eyes with her oversized sleeves, and then caught a glimpse of movement through her tear-stained vision. "Hey, who was that?" she called out to the evasive entity. She pursued the sound into the surrounding pocket of trees, and shortly bumped into something.

A man turned around to face her. An odd-looking man. He had almost cutting blue eyes and silvery hair, but he was not an old man, rather he looked rather distinctly young. His features were soft and pale, and his hair was slicked back elegantly, as if wet, but was pointed at the end, like a set of spikes. Morgan looked down and saw that the man also wore a rather strange ensemble, bearing a cravat that reminded Morgan distinctly of Virion's and a robe of sorts that concealed a jet black, almost skin-tight garment. He was perhaps the oddest looking man Morgan had ever seen, and, given her experience, that was saying something. "What were you doing staring at me, you creep?" she barked angrily when she had finished looking at him.

"I wasn't staring, honestly," his voice was nervous, but she could hear that it was also deep and calming, a perfect orator's voice.

"Then what were you doing?" she put her hands on her hips.

"Is..." he stammered, "Is this where the Grandmaster of Ylisse lives? Robin?"

"It is, but he's out at the moment," Morgan reported as a dissatisfied secretary.

He nodded appreciatively, coming to understand something, "And you, of course, must be Morgan."

"How did you know that?" she cocked an eyebrow.

He smiled softly, "Your father's not exactly shy about proclaiming his love for you."

Morgan blushed, that much was true, "Do you seek an audience with him?"

"...No," the man decided, "Not today, but maybe soon." There came the sound of footsteps approaching. Morgan turned her head and saw her father walking toward the clearing before their house. "I've got to be off," the silver-haired young man announced with a whisper.

"What name shall I give my father to tell him of your visit?" the girl persisted.

"None, I wasn't here," he shook his head.

"Sure you were," she raised an eyebrow, confused.

He rolled his eyes, "Ah, Morgan... Just... don't _tell_ him that I was here, all right?"

"I suppose," she shrugged, "but why the secrecy?"

"Maybe you'll find out eventually," he patted her head and, before Morgan could make another sound, had leapt out of sight.

"Morgan? Are you playing over there?" her father hailed.

She ran happily to him, "Yes, father, I'm right here!"

"Hello, my darling," he embraced her, "today's a special day, isn't it?"

She looked into her father's eyes excitedly, "Why, whatever could you mean, father?"

He laughed, settling his hand on her head. It felt good for Morgan to be in contact with the no-longer bedridden man, "Fetch your mother, we're going out to lunch."

"Are we going...?" she jumped. He nodded. They would go to a local restaurant that had long since become one of Morgan's favorites.

"And," he smiled slyly, "don't tell your mother, but I brought you a little dessert before lunch." He handed her smiling eyes a plate with a beautiful-looking cake.

"And there'll be figgy pudding?" Morgan grinned broadly, dreaming up an image of her favorite dessert.

Her father shared in her smile, "Of course."

The three of them traveled into town along the small path, happy once more, the sun brightly lit above their heads. Morgan still pondered, however, all the while about the silver-haired man she had met.


	16. Venture

Anna woke up and rose to find her husband already awake, sitting at the end of their bed, his hands folded together and supporting his chin. "Morning, honey," she hoped to catch his attention.

She succeeded. He turned to face her quickly, "Ah, good morning."

Making a quick decision, Anna leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, "You know, it was Morgan's birthday yesterday, not mine."

He laughed weakly, failing to understand, "Er, yes. I knew that. What do you mean?"

She rolled her eyes and kissed his cheek, "I mean… I don't think I've ever seen you so… _eager_."

He blushed, "Ah, that. Well, er, you're so beautiful, how can I hope to contain myself."

She embraced him more tightly, "Much as I appreciate it, I know there's more to it than that. You're worried about something, aren't you? Worried about… me?"

"Good guess," he smiled away from her.

"And what's got you worried about me, baby? I like to think I've demonstrated I can handle myself," she pounded her own chest proudly.

"It's not that, you've certainly done that much," he sighed, "It's just… _I_ don't want to worry you."

She understood, and nodded, "It certainly wasn't the best news I've gotten this week, but I can handle it, Robin. I'll be with you all the way if it's ten minutes or ten millennia more."

"I know you will," he leaned his head into her, "I… I just feel like… if I were to… go… I would be failing you and Morgan both. Baby Morgan wouldn't even have a father to look after her."

"Then don't go," Anna smiled with a nuance of sarcasm.

"Fair enough," he smiled back at her. He stood up, then, "Oh, and, incidentally, I have to go."

"Not funny," she began to rouse herself, "Are you really leaving again?"

He frowned, "I'm afraid so. Chrom wants to keep an eye on me now more than ever."

"Get your own husband, crivens," Anna muttered, "Maybe I should start accompanying you to the capitol."

He shook his head, "I don't think that's a good idea. Morgan might get worried. Just take her to the stall today like everything's back to normal, all right? She needs routine."

"You know, most wives wouldn't take very kindly to their husband being stolen away from them every morning and having to pretend like they didn't miss him," she sighed with frustration.

"I know," Anna could swear she heard his voice waver, "but that's why you aren't most wives." He planted a kiss on her lips, "You're mine."

"Points for cleverness, but I'm still not happy," she said, wearing an ironic smile that contradicted her.

"I've got a prospective client lined up for you. Noble, big spender, hangs on his wife's every whim," he grinned.

"Now you're speaking my language," she embraced him as he stood to leave.

"Father, where are you going?" the little redhead had bounded out of her room and prevented her father from leaving.

"Out to Chrom's, like the usual," he smiled at her.

"Oh…" she took it in, "Really?"

"Yep," he patted her head, ruffling her hair, "You be a good girl and help your mom out, all right?"

"Father," she laughed, "I'm not a little girl, you know."

"I know," he kissed her, preparing to leave, "sometimes I just like pretending you are."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she raised an eyebrow.

"Beats me," he chuckled, "Now, as they say in Renais, _adieu_."

Morgan was a bit confused, but was able to acclimate back to her normal life (at least, as normal as it could be) rather easily, as she sat in the cart, heading out to her mother's market stall, where would be all the fantastic sights and smells of a normal day of retail. Morgan had to refrain from drooling thinking about the bakery that had recently opened near their typical space in the market and the kindly, fat baker who ran the place and gave her samples of whatever she desired.

"What's today's tale, mother?" Morgan requested as the cart yawned beneath her.

"I don't know," Anna looked away, "I didn't really have one in mind for today. I've got an important client to talk to. Wants to do some investing."

"Oh," Morgan didn't bother to mask her disappointment, "You will still tell me one today, right?"

"If I think of something," her mother sighed.

It was a dry span of what, to Morgan, felt like an eternity, but was, in reality, likely less than an hour riding the cart up to the market square to begin the process of unloading the cart and preparing the stall for the day's affairs. Morgan made no secret of pouting at her mother every few minutes for refusing to tell her a story, but she was relegated to the counter alongside her mother before long, and she had to wear a bright smile to attract customers, just like her mother had taught her. Morgan stared at the waves of people passing, disinterested, as their movement blurred into a stream. She began to daydream about what sort of confection the baker might be preparing at this very moment, until, suddenly, she became aware her mother was conversing with someone.

"Are you Anna, then?" the young man inquired.

"Yessir," she bowed, "What can I do you for?"

"I've heard great things about your little store," he smiled warmly. Morgan recognized him: he was the silver-haired man who had been spying on her.

"We—er, that is, I've earned a pretty solid rap, all right," Anna nodded.

"I was interested in discussing investments, I think I have may have some great market insights," he smirked.

"Oh, sure thing," she nodded, taking out a notepad, preparing to discuss with him.

Morgan tugged on her mother's sleeve, "Mother, I know this man."

"Morgan, he's a client right now. I can't talk," Anna whispered sharply. The silver-haired man raised his eyebrow at the little redhead, appearing bemused, as if he had never seen her before. "My daughter, Morgan," Anna explained quickly.

"Ah," he absorbed, "She's darling. Hullo, dear." Morgan only leered at the visitor, earning her a stern glare from her mother.

"Um, hi, sir," she said meekly.

He laughed, "So now, my plans are thus…"

Morgan continued to leer at the man as he spoke, seeing his eyes narrow frequently, as if he were examining a document carefully, rather than carrying on a conversation. He maintained formality with her mother as he spoke, carrying on in that same perfect orator's tone of voice Morgan had recognized from earlier, he seemed to be talking forever, but Morgan saw that her mother wasn't in the least bothered by it as they bantered for quite some time.

Eventually, he stopped and smiled back down at the little redhead, "Ah, but I can see I'm boring the young lady. Perhaps this is where we ought to end our chat for the day."

"You don't need to worry about her, she's a trooper," Anna nudged her daughter with her elbow.

He waved his hand amiably, "That's quite all right, I've taken up enough of your time for today, but I look forward to conducting further business with you."

"Of course, you can contact my husband again any time you'd like, and I'll be happy to speak with you," Anna bowed.

"Again?" he repeated, confused, "I didn't even know you had a husband, milady."

"Huh?" Anna paused, "Oh, my mistake. My husband said he might be sending a client my way, a noble."

He smiled warmly, "You take me for a noble, eh? Perhaps I'm not doing so bad as I thought. At any rate, I have promises to keep, ladies, so, until we meet again."

"Of course," Anna nodded, "best of luck to you."

"Hey, wait!" Morgan called after him.

"Yes, young lady?" he addressed her.

"I've seen you before," she determined, "what are you doing here?"

He shook his head, "I'm sure milady must be mistaken, I do not know your face. I only wished to ask for your mother's services this day."

Morgan stared at the man frustratedly, "No way, we've met! I know you!"

He smiled curiously at her, "I should hardly think so, dear."

"Morgan, enough," her mother chided through a whisper.

"A name," Morgan demanded, "You have to at least give me a name."

"My name?" his eyes widened a bit, "I'm called Acien."

"Morgan I'll tell you a story if you'll stop pestering the man," her mother pleaded with strain.

"Oh?" Morgan shut her mouth quickly and faced her mother.

"A fan of stories, is she?" the man who called himself Acien looked down at the little redhead.

"She likes to hear about how my husband and I met," Anna laughed softly.

"And might I ask who your husband is?" the silver-haired man begged.

"His name is Robin," Anna nodded.

Acien nodded, "Well, now. The famous tactician, eh? You must be a very lucky woman. I've heard many a noble lady once threw herself to his feet."

"I don't know if that's really how it was," the merchant smiled aside, amused by the thought of Chrom's courtesans bowing before the former tactician, "But I suppose I do tend to count my blessings."

"Ah," Acien sighed again in the manner he seemed accustomed to, "You'll forgive me. Legend oft gets the better of truth among men such as your husband. I'm curious about him. …I don't mean to impose, but do you suppose I might hear this story as well, that I might therein discover the truth of the man?"

Anna regarded him carefully, "I suppose it wouldn't hurt. All right, find a seat, this might take some time. Let's see… well… there was that time…"

* * *

"Rah!" the tactician yelled, chucking the object forward. "Hah! Kyah! Hut!" he continued shouting, whipping the things away.

"Do I even dare to ask?" Robin turned his head to the voice that, it seemed, would never be capable of not accompanying him.

"Just doing a little practice!" he affirmed, thrusting his arm forward with another grunt of effort."

"Practice for what? Disturbing your neighbors?" Anna cocked an eyebrow.

"Very funny," he didn't look back and wound up again, "I'm skipping stones to see if it helps me get better directional control on my magic."

Anna stared at him, "Is… Is that how that works?"

"I don't know for sure," he told the broad river in front of him, "but I read it in a book once. If nothing else, it'll help my arm strength." He threw another stone and shouted.

"Did the book tell you you have to yell like a nimrod while you do it?" Anna laughed.

"Just part of proper breathing," he exhaled sharply, tossing another.

"Right," Anna drew the word out, "Well, lemme know when you're done skipping stones. I have some stuff I wanted to talk to you about."

"You can't discuss it here?" he paid attention to his next throw.

"I could," she smirked, "but I really don't feel like being interrupted every few seconds.

"Tsk," he sighed as the stone flew and barely bounced off the surface of the water, "I suppose that's fair."

She laughed dryly, "What shall we say? See you in… an hour, then?"

"No!" he turned to face her, excited, "I mean, er, wait, stick around." He picked up another stone and offered it to her, "Uh, like to have a throw?"

She stared at the round object in his palm with amusement, and shrugged, "All right, why not?" She took it and flung it horizontally, letting it skid three or four times on the surface of the rushing water.

"Hey, that was it!" he observed, "How did you do that?"

She shrugged again, "I dunno, I just kinda…" Anna moved her fingers to replicate how she had held the stone before, "And then I tossed it like… that," she said, putting her arm out.

Robin tried to replicate her motions and curse himself when he failed to skip the stone once more, "Rats. What am I doing wrong?"

"You can't get all flustered. You have to give it some… you know, finesse," Anna provided.

"Finesse," he repeated, "All right… finesse…" He hurled another stone over the water, but it sank immediately. "Bah," he sighed dejectedly, "it seems I'm only getting worse as I go on."

"You'll get it, just keep at it," the redhead encouraged.

He nodded ironically, "Thank you, mother." He tossed another stone over the water and frowned as it slipped right under the surface, "Damn. Well, I think that's enough of that for one day. Now, there was something you wanted to talk about?"

She nodded dully, "Yeah, but maybe that conversation's best saved for some other time."

"Why is that?" he grinned faintly, "The sun's up, the weather's just warm enough… everything's about as good as it can be, for now."

"Yeah," she sighed, "Everything looks beautiful."

His face fell into a frown, "I don't like your tone of voice. What's wrong? Were you hurt in the last battle? Only show me where, and I swear, I'll—"

"I'm fine, Robin," she breathed weightily, "I changed my mind. I don't feel much like talking about this on a day like today." Her lips quivered as she thought.

He took hold of her hand, "Really, now, what's the matter? A frown doesn't suit you, you know."

She tried to smile, "So a very friendly tactician chooses to oft remind me. But… Forget it, Robin, today's just not a day for reverie in my mind. I apologize for depressing you for no reason like this…"

He grasped her shoulder, "Anna, talk. We've been over this: we can speak to each other to make one another feel better, can't we?"

"Perhaps you're right…" she drew in a pained breath, "but… might I tack on a favor in addition to this conversation?"

"Naturally," he tried to comfort her.

"I got word this morning…" she choked, but cleared her throat, now determined, "Robin, my mother is dead."

"Gods," his face fell once more, "I am so sorry, Anna."

"I know it might not be a great time, but, do you suppose I could have some time off for the funeral?" Anna's tear-adorned eyes wondered platonically.

"Gods, Anna, of course! What sort of monster would say no?" Robin was now also frowning empathetically.

"Doesn't Chrom have the final say on that?" Anna wondered, not looking up.

"I'm sure he'd say the same thing, Anna. Chrom's a reasonable man," Robin noted, tightening his grip on her shoulder.

"All right," she continued to reply in a detached voice, "then, here's the favor: Will you accompany me to the funeral? I don't think I could stand to be there by myself."

"Absolutely," he nodded with confidence.

"O… Okay," she still refused to look up, "I just need to grab a few of my things…"

Anna retreated to her tent with the tactician in tow. She gathered what she needed in silence, save for the sound of her own crying, which was still mostly silent. In the meantime, Robin hastily drafted a letter explaining the situation to Chrom, leaving it on his own desk to be discovered. The funeral, Anna had luckily been informed, would take place in a small town not far from where she was when she had received the news. Still, the walk was long, drawn out by the arduous and unbearable silence as Anna plodded along contemplatively, only occasionally hazarding a glance at the horizon to ensure she was still headed in the right direction. Per her unspoken request, the tactician never spoke up, but rather walked silently at her side, never taking his eyes off of her in her melancholy. Soon, the weather turned to suit her mood, and the golden sunshine of the earlier day was replaced with masses of indigo clouds that let rain crash onto them and quickly turned the path to mud. Robin, not desiring to see his crestfallen friend also stricken with pneumonia, relieved himself of his cloak and draped it around her. Anna accepted the garment wordlessly.

Eventually, they reached the spot. It was easy to tell: where else would such a gathering of identical women wearing red ponytails exist? If not for the situation, it might have even been comical, all of them standing in a row like chickens in a pen, their heads and hair bobbing at random intervals. They communicated in hushed tones, as if their mother was asleep and to wake her would be a capital crime. The funeral was to be open-casket, and so the ceremoniously adorned body of the woman many several Annas called mother and still more called sister or aunt lay silent in a small building, the village's lone temple. Robin accompanied the merchant girl inside the steel-gray walls of the temple, still hearing the rain whip against the stone walls. Looking up, he saw the object of their reverence: the woman was surrounded by every color of flower existing under the rainbow. Heartfelt parting words were written on cards and notes that covered every inch not occupied by foliage, and ribbons hung down from every corner of the ceiling. As they drew closer, Anna still said nothing, but wound her hand into the tactician's holding it as if it were a cliff from which she was about to fall. They reached the daintily dressed body, and Anna simply stared at it for quite some time. She didn't feel any right to touch what had once been her mother's body, and felt an almost superstitious caution that she oughtn't do so. Robin, too, having no choice, stared at the body, but certainly not even begin to suppose what the daughter of this woman was feeling. Robin had known nothing of her, not how she passed, nor how she lived, nor what a mother she was. He felt unworthy of being in the presence of this woman in her final hours. Eventually, with an audible sobbing breath, Anna made a gesture that Robin supposed was a sign of prayer, whispered something, and then tugged softly at the tactician's hand.

A meal was being served in a nearby restaurant, rented out completely, of course, by the other of Anna's sisters and cousins, and so on. Anna drifted in with Robin at her side and found herself a seat with relative haste, though she declined any food offered to her. For the first time in what must have been hours, she raised her head and wiped away a tear, staring at the tactician. "You know," she rasped, "she gave me my first one." Anna played idly with the bear ornament on the hilt of her blade.

"Your first… what, the bear?" Robin observed.

She nodded, "Uh-huh. I know it seems silly, childish, even, but… She bought me one of those little guys, put it in my room… well, I think I've told you what she said to me."

He agreed, "Yes, I seem to recall that."

"Since then, any time I saw one of the little things, it reminded me of her, and of the comforts of home, and… well, I just had to pick it up," Anna continued, something resembling a giggle spilling over her lips as she played with the fuzzy toy.

"Obviously she meant a lot to you," Robin noted neutrally.

"Everything," Anna concurred, "I never told her how much I appreciated how much she'd done for me. I'm a horrible daughter."

"Now, there's no call for that," he consoled, "I'm sure she understands. Children… they can desire distance from their parents, at times. Your mother knows how much she loved you, and as long as you feel that love, I'm willing to believe she's aware of it."

"Mmm," she mused nonverbally, "I appreciate the sentiment."

"Take comfort in at least being sure you knew her," the tactician added, with more than a little sting of bitterness.

Her eyes widened, "Oh. I hadn't even thought about that. Perhaps you're right, things might have been much… Er, well, I'm perhaps more fortunate than I originally thought." He nodded solemnly. "Why did you not say a prayer?" Anna wondered, a bit bothered.

Robin looked at the ground for an answer, "I'm not a deeply religious man. I haven't had much time for prayer and obsecration to the gods while knee-deep in the blood of men." The answer was colder than Robin had intended, but Anna didn't seem to mind much, as if it was what she had expected to hear.

"I don't blame you," she said eventually, "I can't imagine how painful war can be. I suppose having to slog through all of that is enough to crush a person's faith forever."

"It's no worse than seeing a loved one die before you, knowing there was nothing to be done," the tactician resolved mistily, looking at the ceiling, "But, someday, we have to learn to leave the past in the past, and to let the future be our goal."

"Very philosophically put," another spirit of a smile hinted itself upon her.

"It doesn't suit me, does it?" he asked, unsure to what degree the question was earnest, "I'm not ordinarily one for such weighty matters."

"Yes, I find you much more pleasant when I can tell you're joking," she said with the same expression.

"Shall we have something to eat? You must be starved after that walk," he supposed, glancing at her stomach. As if on cue, it growled.

"Guess that's a 'yes,'" she finally allowed a faint smile as a server was called over to them. The rest of the day was filled with reminiscing about Anna's mother, from whom the conversation never departed for more than a few minutes. Anna wondered if she was beginning to annoy the tactician, constantly extolling what an amazing mother she had, but he denied the idea and instead suggested that he was thrilled to see her able to find happiness in what was before so sad an occasion, believing it to be a sign that her recovery from this trauma would be an easy and healthy one. They ate and drank as the night wore on, joining more of Anna's sisters and compounding their shared experience until there were so many stories floating about the room, one might have filled a book by simply scattering the pages throughout. Slowly, however, darkness wore on, and the tactician feared for his men. Anna could see it, too, and despites his protests and assurances that she could take as much time as she liked, she determined they would need to head back to camp to be prepared for the next day. It wasn't long until they had been saddled up on a horse and given garments to protect them from the rain before being sent off into the purplish night, a lone golden torch as their only source of light, held and protected by the tactician while the merchant manned the reins (as Robin had never learned to ride, himself).

They arrived quietly back at the Shepherds' camp sometime into the following morning, but when the world was still veiled by darkness. Robin was relieved to observe that nothing seemed to be amiss in the time since his departure, and, so, without another word, began to make a return to his tent. He entered the small canvas structure and slid out of his soaked cloak, placing it on the same small pole that had been provided to him for it some weeks ago by Chrom. He sighed and rubbed his eyes, lighting a candle to observe the state of his room and conclude a few necessary affairs before turning in. As he sat and worked, however, he caught a glimpse of the redhead standing in his tent's entrance, as so many nights before. This night, however, she stood pensively, wringing her hands as if afraid of the tactician.

"Robin," she projected when it was clear he had seen her.

"It's late, Anna. You should be off to bed," he smiled.

"As well as you," she countered concernedly, drawing near, "I just wanted to say… thank you. I know that was no small favor."

"It's what anyone would have done," he decided, "And it was nice to see you… so emotional, rather than always hearing about your finances."

"What does that mean?" she adopted a smirk, "You didn't think I was expressive of my emotions before? C'mere and I'll show you how I feel right now." He chuckled as she waved her fist, then Anna laughed, too, but in a different way: a careless, lackadaisical way that suggested something akin to the ability to breath having been underwater for days. "I mean it, come here," she said more softly, picking the tactician up by the arm. His eyes widened as she kissed him, though he was becoming more accustomed to the sensation of her lips on his own, "That's how I feel about you right now, got it?" He blushed and smirked at her without saying anything. "Don't get used to it," was her caveat as she drifted out of the tent. The tactician sighed, rubbed his head, and blew out the candle.

* * *

Acien had been absorbing the words like a sustaining nectar, "I see. That is much a much different Robin than so many of the stories I've heard."

"He's usually a more fun sort of guy," Anna provided, "I didn't mean to relay such a depressing spin, it just sort of came to me." Anna watched her daughter wipe tiny tears from her eyes.

"Tragedy and comedy in equal measure, there's where we find the color of our character," decided the silver-haired man, "But enough of my axioms, for I fear I've taken up too much of your time, my lady."

"Not at all," Anna smiled.

"Ah, but I must be off," he bowed. "Be kind to your mother, young lady," he told Morgan before walking away, his long coat swishing its tail behind him.

* * *

Robin took a breath. He had been ushered onto the streets at Chrom's request, fearing too much medicine and therapy without a bit of holistic fresh air would affect the former tactician's health aversely. He chuckled and shook his head, examining a few stands packed with fresh fruits of vibrant colors.

"Beg pardon, sir," introduced a small voice, "Care to partake in a little game of chance?"

He turned to find a small girl, though not remarkably small. She was about a foot shorter than he, and she wore pale, baby blue clothing that covered most of her figure, but she seemed a fit, though not overwhelmingly defined, young lady. Her face was mostly obscured by the small hood she wore, as if trying to hide her face as children do when playing a role, but her sapphire eyes shone through and he could see some chestnut locks curling down her face. When Robin had finished evaluating her, he nodded, "Why not? What's the game, my lady?"

She showed him over to a table, also covered by a pale blue sheet, and brought out a colorful wheel lined with numbers. "See," she introduced, holding a small emerald ball in her palm, "I'll drop this marble in here, give 'er a spin, and you call out a number. If it stops on the number you called, I'll give you a gold coin, if not, you give me one. Win a little something for the grandkids, eh?"

"Grandkids?" he realized, "Now, see here, I'm not that old." The girl stared at him, apparently unconvinced. He paused and shrugged, amused by the little girl's enthusiasm. She did as she said she would and spun the wheel, the little ball rolling along the edge. "Twenty-three," the former tactician called, predicting the trajectory. The ball finished rolling and stopped at three.

"Ooh, what a shame," the girl grinned in a way that made her disappointment seem not the least bit earnest, "Well, pay up."

"Who shall I pay it to," the tactician smirked, "you, or…" He lifted the pale blue sheet and found what he was expecting: A boy with a square face and flat, straight brown hair who started in surprise on being discovered. He chose to wear pale red clothing, to compliment and contrast the girl's, "your little accomplice who was tilting the wheel, here?" he finished.

The girl's eyes widened, "Um, that's, er…" She looked at the boy with anger, "W-What are you doing here, you… you reprobate? Get out of there!"

"Enough," he said calmly as the boy meandered out from beneath the table, "Young lady, if you need money, you would do better to ask next time." He smiled at them both as he placed a bag of coins on the table and walked off.

"Nice going," he heard the girl growl at her companion, "could you have been any more obvious?"

"Aw, stow it!" he returned, "You were eggin' him on so much, he'd 'a figured it out anyway!"

Their voices swept into indistinctness in the clamor of the marketplace.


	17. Docket

"And... a hundred!" Anna declared with relief, falling onto her back, satisfied, despite her exhaustion, "Oof, feel that burn!" She chuckled to herself. Ordinarily, she wouldn't bring herself to such great strain, but there was something about being in the Shepherds that made her want to do the best she could for them no matter what. She looked about the tent, wondering if, perhaps, she would find the source of her drive for absolute fitness there. She failed, however, and instead decided to simply sit back up. She smiled, honestly, why did she put herself out so much for these Ylissean warriors? Was it the adventure? The potential for profit? Or could it maybe be...

Anna gave up. Now wasn't the time to think about that, anyway. She still had so much inventory to review, after all! The redhead was determined to get to it, but she shortly found herself distracted by one of her favorite little bear toys. She shook her head with laughter: now was hardly the time to consider... Aw, what the heck? Five minutes couldn't hurt, could it? She picked up the plushy creature and introduced him to the one on her blade, making his soft little ball of a hand wave.

"Hello, young lady, what are you called?" said the first bear formally.

"I am Princess Amanda of the Fluffenstuff kingdom," replied the other in a much more down-to-earth tone of voice.

"Princess Amanda, I humbly suppose that I am in love with you," continued the first bear in an exaggeratedly posh voice

"Oh, my," sighed the other.

"Would you do me the great honor of marrying me?" proposed the bear with the posh voice.

"Alack, I fear I'm unready to be wed," Princess Amanda protested.

"What?" started the posh bear, "Well, I never! Why, Princess Amanda?"

"My life is to be more than marriage and regalia, I wish to feel the warmth of the sun on my skin and the rush of the wind as I run through the fields and to smell the salty current of the fickle ocean as I sail over her..." Princess Amanda dreamily supposed.

"Oh no it isn't," coughed a gruff surprise third bear, "Any daughter of mine will be wed and rear a family. That is her duty!"

"What if I just want to enjoy myself for once?!" barked Princess Amanda, her puppeteer no longer even pretending to use a different voice.

"No," growled the greater Lord Fluffenstuff monstrously, "there shall be no fun in my kingdom!"

"Please, only listen to reason, dear princess," obsecrated the first bear.

"How I wish my life could be my own," bemoaned Princess Amanda.

"Pardon me, fair lady," announced a fourth voice, this one boyish and fair, "there is a war in he neighboring kingdom, and I understand you are trained in the sword. Will you join my party?"

"Ah, of course!" cheered Princess Amanda.

"Oh, dear Princess Amanda, your free-spirited ways are ever so endearing. Might I ask you to marry me?" pleaded the boyish bear.

"Oh, perhaps one day, but not today, my youthful friend," the princess sighed.

"Naturally," her admirer bowed, "I respect your decision and will continue to offer my love until such time as you deem proper to accept it."

"Oh, come, mine noble charge," ordered Princess Amanda.

The redhead busily pressed their faces together but bolted her hands away when she saw the tent flap open, "Anna? What in the world are you doing in here?"

"N-Nothing!" she claimed, hiding the toys behind her back.

"I heard... voices," the tactician said nervously.

"Ah, well, isn't that strange?" the redhead tried unsuccessfully to deflect.

"Were... were you playing with those little bears?" the tactician had to stifle his grin.

Anna sighed loudly, "Yeah... Go ahead, laugh it up..."

"I wasn't laughing," Robin told her, though his smile seemed ready to crack, "I think it's kind of cute."

Anna blushed and looked away, "W-Well, if you're done hanging around my tent and eavesdropping..."

"Don't try to make this about me," he touted, anticipating her, "Why are you getting all defensive? All that happened was I walked in on you playing with your teddies. I suppose all girls do that sometimes, right?"

She leered at him, not sure if she properly understood him, "Do you want something?"

"A little conversation, I thought," he said absently, "I've hit a bit of a mental block and I had figured spending some time away from my work would help me return to the problem with a clearer head."

"Now's not really the time," grunted the merchant woman.

He raised an eyebrow, "No? Why is it you always get to decide when 'the time' is?"

"Because I said so, now amscray, buster," she tried to push him out of the tent.

"C'mon," he made a face that was between a mirthful smile and a pitiful frown, "I want a real reason."

"Because I'm sweaty and gross and not looking good enough," she growled tiredly, becoming keenly aware of several locks of wet hair that were matted messily to her face.

That remark caught the tactician's attention, "'Not looking good enough?' For... me, you mean?"

"Or, whatever!" she blushed, trying harder to push him out.

"Anna, you could be covered in garbage, it would all be the same to me," he laughed. Anna didn't—rather, she crossed her arms angrily at him. "That came out wrong," he put a hand up to explain, "What I mean is, you don't have to try so hard: you look beautiful to me no matter what."

"W-Well," she tried to maintain her indignation, "thanks, but I don't recall asking, you presumptuous dolt!"

"But you just said—"

"Never mind what I said! Go already!" she demanded.

"All right, all right," he shrugged innocently, "but I'd still like to talk sometime soon."

She resisted as her lips creased upward, "Sure... later. But, you know, for right now..."

"Going," he finished, about-facing. He opened the tent flap but looked back, "Oh, and Anna?"

"Yes?" she looked up with more patience.

"Princess Amanda's story is remarkably cliché."

"Out, out, out!" she screamed after him. He laughed his entire way through the Shepherds' camp.

* * *

"So, yes," he cleared his throat, "in case you were wondering, your mother isn't above embarrassment, either."

"What are you lot giggling about over there?" Morgan heard her mother grumble.

"Just talking about how cute you are, mom," Morgan replied with an excited smile.

"Why do I get the sense that's not the whole truth?" her mother shook her head with disbelieving eyes.

"Oh, don't be so negative," her father said grandly, "I'm just celebrating the adorable antics of my beloved wife." He walked forward and embraced her. She tried unsuccessfully to frown at him.

"Father," Morgan began, catching his interest, "do you know a man with silver hair?"

"Silver hair? Doesn't sound familiar, but there may be many, dear," he decided neutrally, adjusting the eyeglasses balanced on the bridge of his nose.

"Oh, yes," Anna chimed in, "He was at the stall today. Morgan was sure she had seen him before. I believe he introduced himself as 'Oss-yen,' or something to that effect. I thought he was the noble you had told me about earlier."

The former tactician shook his head, "No, I don't know anyone by that name."

"It was 'Acien,' mother," corrected Morgan, "and he was asking a lot about you, father."

"Really?" Robin responded with interest, "Perhaps I owe him a visit."

"Not likely," Anna declined, "I never asked him where he lived. He could be anywhere by now."

"We can still keep an eye out," Morgan affirmed.

"Are you trying to undermine your mother, Morgan?" Anna looked at her daughter with a suspicious eye.

"What?" Morgan jumped, "No, never!"

"Because," her mother continued, with a hint of a chuckle, "you know what happens to bad girls who try to get over on their moms, don't you?"

"Um…" Morgan felt a cold sweat approaching and touched the back of her neck.

"Well, you do now!" her mother shouted, bringing down her arms along either side of the girl's stomach.

"M-Mother! S-Stop! What are you… haha! Ahahaha!" the little redhead gasped with laughter as her mother tickled her, "S-Stop it! Haha! I can't b-b-breathe!" Robin grinned with amusement and turned to begin packing things away to end the day, hearing his daughter's laughter echo down the streets all the while.

* * *

The dark of night had fallen, Robin observed, along with the gentle, sighing sound of his daughter's breathing as she lay in bed. He took another moment to rub his hand across his face, grimacing as he managed to wipe the dirt of the day away.

"I feel like it's been forever since we could just sit here and chat," his wife proclaimed dreamily.

"Oh, boy," he sighed sarcastically, "How many people did you manage to swindle today?"

"Oh, come on," she sat up, flustered, "You act as if that's all I ever talk about." The former tactician didn't protest. "Well," she grunted, "I'll have you know I'm a very complex and nuanced person."

"I know you are," he laughed, "else I wouldn't have married you. Settle down, dear."

"At least act like my husband for a minute," she placed a hand on his shoulder, "Crack a joke, or something."

"Um…" he probed his memory, "Let's see… a piece of string walks into a tavern—"

"Not like that!" she huffed.

"Well, then, what did you want?" he cocked an eyebrow.

"I don't know," she shrugged exorbitantly, "make a witty observation about something."

He paused with an annoyed stare and reported, "I'm beginning to think I can't talk to my wife anymore."

"Never mind," she rolled her eyes, "stick to the jokes."

"Do I have to be funny for you to like me?" he wondered with a smile.

"It doesn't hurt," she replied judiciously.

"Aw," he frowned ironically, "you're making it sound like you don't want to be around me anymore."

"You just seem… different, is all," she sighed.

The frown ceased to be ironic. "Is something on your mind now, honey?"

"No," she shook her head, "I don't know, maybe I'm just tired."

"Are you sure?" he brightened, "We swore we'd always be able to talk to each other."

"I think this baby thing has still got me out of whack," she denied. Robin took note of the small, but noticeable lump that was projecting from his wife's stomach.

"It's going fast, isn't it?" he said without emotion.

"Not for me," she turned over, upset.

"You definitely don't want to talk about this?" his brow knitted in concern.

"No, that's okay. I just want to get some sleep," she told her pillow, facing away. Robin shrugged and supposed he was tired, too.

* * *

"Come on, tactician-boy! Up and at 'em!" she clapped her hands loudly.

"I am seriously regretting making this a routine," Robin complained, spilling out from his cot, rubbing his eyes.

"Aw, come on, we're gonna have fun!" the merchant cheered, pumping her fist, "Now, get a move on, I wanna see you sweat!"

"I thought you didn't want me to see you get 'all sweaty and gross,'" the tactician recalled.

"Yeah, but this time, you'll be doing the sweating!" she laughed.

"I hate you," he groaned a hoarse laugh.

"Oh, I'll keep up," she assured, helping to pick him up. Anna began to jog in place, "Let's go! Get a move on!"

"This is the worst," Robin said quickly, rubbing his face.

"Move!" she ordered again. He began to jog alongside her. They proceeded through the rest of Anna's routine as they had devised it. She looked back and beamed proudly as she saw the tactician struggle and grunt his way through each exercise, his face becoming red over not that long a period. Somehow, she found herself thrilled by his exertion, excited to see what more he could produce, and running and moving alongside him, supporting him, always keeping pace and exchanging determined glares… Anna had never been much for strict schedules of exercise, but this was one routine she would never break, she had so much fun just being beside him… Wait, what did that mean?

"Anything else today, taskmaster?" asked the tactician through a pant, snapping the merchant back to reality.

She became aware of a rumbling in her stomach, but chose to ignore it. She decided she wasn't done with the tactician just yet. "I wanna do some sit-ups. Hold my ankles," she ordered.

"Are you sure?" Robin's face showed suspicion, "You're looking a bit pale, maybe even a little worn out."

"I'm just fine," she dissuaded, "Now, ankles."

"Yes ma'am," he complied, putting his hands over them.

Anna began to bring herself up with a breath of exertion. "Count for me," she demanded before she fell back.

"One… two… three…" Robin obeyed, nodding his head each time she came up and exhaled. "…seven… eight… nine… ten…" he continued to nod as she came up, causing Anna to smile at him, finding it a rather amusing mannerism. This, in turn, caused Robin to smile back, which got the both of them grinning broadly back at the other for what seemed like no reason. "…twenty… twenty-one… twenty-two… I'm impressed, Anna," Robin declared, raising his eyebrows as she sat up again.

"Don't be too jealous," she sighed disaffectedly, "You'll get there one day, son."

He scoffed, "Hah, you wish."

"Don't get all fussy just 'cause I can outperform you," she continued to tout.

"You're lucky I'm not a competitive guy or I'd literally run circles around you," suggested Robin with a smirk.

"Is that a bet I hear being made?" she raised an eyebrow.

"Just finish your sit-ups," he disregarded her.

She wrenched his hands away and got up, "No, really, do you want to back up that bravado a bit?"

"You don't look like you're in the best shape for a competition," he commented.

"Oh, is that so?" she frowned and rolled up her sleeve, "Then I'm not letting this go. Better put your money where your mouth is, tactician-boy."

"Anna, really…" he sighed.

"No, I mean it. You're gonna go for statements like that, you'd better be prepared for repercussions," she shoved him lightly.

He chuckled to himself and rolled his eyes, "All right, what's the wager?"

Anna thought to herself and found a devious smirk on her face when she had thought the whole plan through, "Temporary servitude."

"What?" he did a double-take.

"If I win, you be my attendant for the day, and vice-versa," she elaborated, gesturing with her hands.

"With you I figured money would be enough," he shrugged.

"Nah," she waved her hand, "I've got enough money. This is a prize worth winning."

"If you say so," he sighed.

"Now, what shall we say," Anna scanned the horizon, her heart now drumming, "to… Chrom's tent?"

"How about Panne's? I don't feel like getting chewed out by our dear commander again," he offered.

"Done," she nodded. In a moment, they were both lined up on a path, "Now, don't go crying when I mop the floor with you."

"Yeah, right," he stretched his leg, "don't think you can wriggle out of that little contract you came up with when you lose." They looked at each other and counted simultaneously, "Three… two… one… go!" The both of them took of like shots and other Shepherds whipped their heads around to observe the streaks of dust the racing pair were leaving behind, tearing across the camp with a thunderous noise.

"Not bad," Anna yelled to her opponent.

"Just using what you taught me," he returned.

She nodded as she ran, "Just know that before this is over, I'll show you… oh…" Anna began to slow down as she felt her stomach turn a bit. After a moment, she found she couldn't walk as well as she thought, and, in another instant, she was on the ground, clutching at her side, feeling her midsection burning in a decidedly unpleasant fashion.

Robin, who had been charging still ahead, craned his neck and forced himself to a halt when he realized the merchant had fallen back. He instead rushed back over to her, "Anna! Hey, are you all right?" Her answer was a pained stare, the look in her eyes suggesting she'd never seen the young man in the purple cloak before, and then she fell to the ground, shutting her eyes. "Anna! Oh, gods! Hey, somebody, help!" Robin looked around in vain for the other Shepherds, "Oh, Naga dammit…" He paced his breathing, "Okay… I can't tell if… she's got a pulse." He lowered his ear to her lips, "Damn, I don't think she's breathing…" Sweating, the tactician looked about, "Oh, hell! …Wait, there's something I'm supposed to do here, right? What was it?" Robin recalled a book he had once read on medical emergency procedure. "To restart her breathing… I have to… what was it? Perform compressions on her chest and… oh, right." He grimaced and blushed in embarrassment, still this was no time for embarrassment! Someone's life was on the line! With that in mind, the tactician forced himself to look away as he pulled the merchant's shirt up to give her room to breathe and did his best to press into her chest without looking. When he had pushed thirty times, as he had recalled, he lowered himself over her lips and began to blow into her mouth.

Nothing. He gritted his teeth. He would just have to keep at it until one of them stopped breathing for good.

* * *

Anna rubbed her forehead as the pale daylight seared her eyes for a moment. She rubbed her recuperating face and lightly slapped each of her cheeks with her open palms, feeling the blood rush back into them.

"Uh, you might want to take it easy," suggested a tenuous voice from within the room.

Anna's head whipped toward it, "Huh?"

"Sorry," he provided, "I didn't mean to startle you." She blushed: it was Robin holding a bouquet of flowers limply in his palm, looking about as sullen and apologetic as she could ever recall seeing.

"Oh, hey," she murmured, suddenly finding it difficult to speak.

"Hi," he breathed, "Um… how are you doing?"

"Hard to say," she supposed, "I just woke up."

"Ah, I'm sorry," he cursed himself and turned away.

"It's fine. I don't think it was you," she was unable to bring her voice above a loud whisper.

He paused to consider his course of action, looking at the flowers as though they were some foreign substance. "Um, I figured… that is, I thought… I heard…" Robin rolled his eyes in self-contempt and, past his red face, managed, "I… got these for you." He extended the fistful of blooms, mostly red and yellow tulips, with little purple violets interspersed.

"Thank you," Anna smiled uncertainly, "You know, I might be mistaken, but I think that's the first time I've ever been given flowers."

"You're kidding," he mused, "You?"

"I mean, I've had some suitors, but it's all jewelry with those guys," she nodded.

"Yeah, you wouldn't want any jewelry, would you," he laughed a bit, stepping back.

"It'd be about the same as giving me a couple of gold coins: I'd appreciate it, but I've seen plenty for my lifetime," she decided, looking on as the tactician sat the boquet in a small vase that was sitting across from her little cot in the medical tent, "These are more... tangible, more personal, I think."

"Y-Yeah?" Robin wrung his hands.

"Yeah," she shut her eyes.

"Do you think you're going to be all right?" he raised his brow.

"I just passed out, that's all. I'll be fine," she dissuaded.

"Passed out? No, I think you went into full cardiac arrest," Robin looked aside, recalling her lack of a pulse.

"How could that be?" she wondered.

"I don't know. Maybe you were pushing your tender little heart too hard," he frowned.

"Is that supposed to mean something?" she raised an eyebrow at the response.

"No," he blushed, looking away, "I was just worried your heart might have given out. I don't think you ought to be working yourself so hard."

"You don't need to worry about me," she assured him, pounding on her chest to demonstrate her fortitude. She noticed something, however, and shrieked.

"What is it?" Robin jumped.

"My shirt! Where the hell is my shirt?!" she buried herself in the small blanket provided.

"Oh, it had to be taken off. It might've constricted your breathing. So I'm told, at least," Robin rubbed his neck.

"Does this mean people saw me with it off?" she shriveled further, pulling the blanket so far over her midsection as to expose her feet from underneath.

"Just Lissa, Libra, and I," the tactician scratched his head.

"You?" she leered, "What business did you have with it?!"

"Robin was trying to resuscitate you. If not for him, you might have been further gone. You might've even lost brain tissue if he hadn't been there to keep you just barely alive," chimed in a small voice.

"Thank you, Lissa, but you're not involved in this conversation," Robin informed her, sounding none too grateful.

"Just saying," she concluded musically as she drifted by.

"Oh," Anna calmed herself, "Sorry, I didn't mean to imply..."

"I understand," he held out his hand.

"I guess I should thank you," she realized.

"No, no, don't worry about it," he sighed, "I would've lost my mind if I thought you had dropped dead because of me."

"It's still a little bit embarassing," Anna provided, aware that her face remained red.

"I wasn't trying to look, if it makes you feel any better," he looked away again.

"Not really," she laughed, "but... thanks anyway."

"So," his lips trended back up a bit as he exhaled, "what's your first order?"

"What do you mean?" she peered at him from beneath the blanket.

"I concede. You win the race. What do you want me to do for you?" he offered.

She smiled, "Clever boy. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were going out of your way to spend time with me."

"That's silly," he shook his head, "I don't put myself out for anyone. You won fair and square."

"Maybe I'll go easy on you for good behavior," she watched his eyes.

"No, you can be as hard on me as you like. I implore you," he bowed. They both heard Lissa snicker. "Maybe that wasn't the best way to phrase that. What I mean is, I'm happy to do anything you ask," he sighed at length.

"Have you got any good books lying around?" she supposed.

"Always," he bore his teeth, producing a small volume from his cloak.

"Read me to sleep? I need to conserve some energy," she rolled over, shutting her eyes.

"Of course," he nodded at her and cleared his throat.

* * *

Anna sat up an rubbed her eyes, feeling the sheets fall down around her. Robin was already gone. She frowned, why had she refused to speak with him the night before? What had he done to make her upset. She didn't know why she was upset to begin with, and so shook her head as well as her hips as she wriggled out of the bed, which had its covers tucked suspiciously tightly into her position. Throwing on her normal clothes and straightening her hair, she wandered down the stairs, finding the house empty; even Morgan seemed to be absent, her door hanging open. Suddenly, Anna heard the voice that was unmistakably her child's clamoring about something, and so stepped outside.

"...Got it!" the former tactician declared with finality from the outstretched limb of a tree. Of course, no sooner had he said this than the branch gave way and he plummeted to the ground, tucking, but still hitting it with some force. "Please be more careful with it next time," Robin cautioned his daughter, offering her a small ball in his outstretched hand, several cuts across his dirtied face.

"I will, father. Thank you!" she leapt in delight, taking the sphere away, holding it up.

"You need me to grab my staff?" Anna offered, sliding out of the doorway.

"A... little salve or vulnerary should do the trick," he wiped his hand over his face, staining the hand red and brown. She brought him inside, sitting him down at the table and washed his face with warm water and applied the healing balm, hearing him wince all the while, though she swore he winked at her at least once. Before long there came a knock at the door.

"I've got it," Anna responded, gesturing with her palm to tell her husband to remain seated. She opened the door to find a boy with cedar hair and a salmon-colored garb.

"Uh... Heya. Is, um... is there a guy here, name 'a Robin?" he posed with a quivering lip.

"Yes," Anna nodded softly, "he's my husband. He's right in here." She gestured inside and the former tactician waved from the table.

"Say, I recognize you," Robin looked over the boy, "you're that little boy that was swindling people in the market with that girl."

"Hey, I resent the use of the terms 'little' and 'swindle,'" he began to raise his voice, "but... er, sorry. That's not what I'm here about. We appreciate you givin' us money, sir, but we can't accept it. We're not charity cases."

"Oh?" he raised an eyebrow, "then why were you trying to get people to spend all their money gambling."

He smiled confidently, "Aw, that's just for giggles. We take from the nobles in the market square and hand the excess cash of to the beggars an' such."

"Charitable thieves. That's a new one," Robin thought aloud.

"Hey, I'm no thief, and neither's my sister!" he called back.

"So she's your sister, hm?" he continued.

"Ah, crap... look, just... We're more like... er, performers, ya know?" he sighed.

"Why does it matter if anyone knows she's your sister?" Robin focused.

"Folks... eh, they think it's cute if two kids are running around wearing matching outfits 'cause they've got crushes, that's all," the boy rubbed his neck.

"You have to pretend to be in love with your sister? That must be a bit awkward," Robin smiled sympathetically.

"We just play at it, nothin' serious. Playin' at things is sort of our gig, you get me?" he thumbed at himself proudly.

"All right," the former tactician rose, "that satisfies my curiosity."

"So, uh, like I was sayin'... Much as we appreciate it, we can't take your gold, sir. You can have it back," the boy held up the same pouch Robin had dropped off.

Robin dismissed him with his hand, "Give it to those beggars you mentioned. I've no use for it."

"Really?" the boy raised an eyebrow, "W-Well, all right."

"One more thing..." Robin held up his finger, "how did you know my name?"

"Oh, everyone in Ylisse knows you," laughed the boy, "you're her Grandmaster. Everyone knows how you and the exalt kicked Grima's tail!"

"Funny," the former tactician sighed, "I walk these streets every day and barely get a glance."

"Well, a lot of 'em are still afraid of you, is all. If you could flatten that dragon, imagine what you could do to just one fella, or one little lady, ya know?" he chuckled.

Robin joined him, "I suppose that might be a bit of factor, yes."

The boy sobered, "A-Anyway... my two cents. I should get goin'."

"All right," the former tactician bowed, "Be safe. And don't be stealing from anyone!"

"No promises!" exclaimed the boy defiantly, darting off.

"So many visitors these days," Anna sighed, pulling the door shut.


	18. Market

Anna slurped away another spoonful of soup, a few scattered droplets smacking into her cheeks. She giggled, wiping the stains away with her sleeve. Stahl knew a lot more about cooking that he let on. She would have to give her compliments to the chef when this meal was finished. She wafted another scent from the bowl and relished in it, licking her lips once more as she stared at the murky broth. Looking from side to side, she picked up on the other individuals in the room: Lissa and Ricken were loudly discussing something very exciting with one another, Nowi was bouncing and twirling all around Gregor, and Vaike, as was his habit, was already half-drunk, despite it being the middle of the day. Anna sighed with relief; there would be no one to judge her. That much ascertained, she lifted the bowl of the delicious hot liquid to her mouth and sucked the remainder of it down, wiping her mouth and releasing a hot sigh of glee as she set it down. She chuckled to herself as she noticed she had spilled a bit on her shirt and tried to wash it away, but gave up after a halfhearted attempt. She stroked her hair back and smiled again, and, without thinking, let out an audible burp, prompting her to cover her mouth with another giggle.

She froze as she opened her eyes. Robin stared at her with a raised eyebrow from the other side of the mess tent. He said nothing that couldn't be observed in his mystified glare. "And, uh, this is the mess tent. You're welcome to come in here and relax whenever you care to, but we have set mealtimes for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. You'd best get there fast if you want the best food." Anna watched as the raven-haired girl they'd recruited on a recent venture traipsed behind him with interest, though Anna couldn't say for certain that that interest wasn't more directed at her guide.

"I see..." she mused, "and who does the cooking?"

"We take turns, like with most jobs. Everybody's got a spot on the rotation," he explained with a paternal note in his voice.

"Does that mean you cook, too?" she wondered, her hand supporting her chin.

"Sometimes," he rubbed the back of his neck, "but I must confess I'm not very good. Well, except according to taguel. Panne seems to love my carrot soup."

The young woman smiled beneath her bangs at him, "I'll have to see for myself... And does that mean I'll have to cook as well?"

"If you can manage, yes, it's nice to divvy up the work as much as possible," he nodded.

"...And cook... for you?" she pressed, her smile growing wider.

"Naturally," he nodded again with a trace of suspicion, "as well as all the other Shepherds."

"Well, that's just fine," the raven-haired girl said to no one in particular.

"Let me show you to your tent, now," the tactician beckoned for the young woman to follow. She meandered right at his heels.

Anna felt her face drop. Of course, this could only happen when the tactician walked in. This was absolutely mortifying! The one person she hadn't wanted to see her like that! She shook her head, there would have to be something she could say or do to correct the mistaken impression she had just created. And that woman... the way she clung to the tactician... Anna suddenly gritted her teeth as she feared the worst: had she just given Robin all the justification he needed? She bolted up from the table and decided to pursue the pair ducking behind a rock as they conversed.

"You seem to know everyone here so well," the raven-haired girl said with a demure carelessness. Anna knew she was faking it: that girl had been rude to the extreme with everyone else in the camp.

"Part of the job, I guess," he replied, not looking at her, "I find it easier to lead people if I have a full understanding of who they are."

"Oh, how noble," swooned the girl. Anna felt the ire in her stomach bring a scowl to her face. "Does that mean you want to get to know me, too?" the girl continued, letting her eyes shimmer in the tactician's face.

"I suppose," he smiled, "when you're comfortable telling me, of course. Don't feel like you need to spill your guts to me right away, I just like to get an idea."

"Oh, that's all right," the young woman played with a lock of her hair, "I rather like spilling guts." Robin raised an eyebrow, but said nothing and kept walking. Anna continued to duck behind cover and follow them along until they arrived at the tent that had been assigned to their new recruit.

"And this is your tent," Robin presented it with his arms. Anna pouted, the raven-haired girl knew that already, as she had been sleeping in it for the past week.

"Thank you for that lovely tour," the raven-haired girl bowed, and Anna noticed as her voice suddenly rang as more mature, "If you'd like, you can join me in here for a bit while I tell you some things about myself."

Anna could see the trap and prepared to lunge out of the bush she had crouched into, but she heard the tactician speaking: "That's kind of you to offer, but I believe I've other affairs to attend to today. I'd love to have a chat, but maybe tomorrow, or tonight, if you're that eager..." Anna exhaled quietly in relief, for once Robin's busy schedule would work in her favor.

"Are you sure?" the new recruit put a finger to her chin and pouted, "I swear I can make it take less than fifteen minutes." Anna scowled again, not only was this girl trying to court her... good friend, now she was copying Anna's own signature gesture! Stealing love she could understand, but copyright infringement set her blood boiling.

"Really, I would, but I've so much to do today," Robin refused affably, "and, besides, if I'm going to hear all about you, I'd really prefer to give you the opportunity to take your time."

"You did strike me as a man who takes his time," said the woman sultrily, resting her cheek on her open palm.

"That's how things get done right," Robin tugged at his cloak proudly.

"Indeed," the dark mage agreed, watching him to see if they were on the same page. Anna pretended to vomit.

"Well, in any case, I'll see you around, Tharja," the tactician waved at her, beginning to move away, "and do let me know if you've got any further questions, I'd be happy to help!" The raven-haired woman said nothing, but frowned as the tactician parted. She drifted into her tent without another word.

Anna let out yet another relieved sigh. She would have to grab the tactician's attention quickly to explain her ill manners.

"Say, Robin, are you available to assist me with my training?"

Anna's eye twitched. No sooner had she turned around then had the tactician been met with another Shepherd, the redheaded pegasus knight, Cordelia.

"I have a bit of business to look to, I'm afraid," Robin rubbed his neck apologetically.

"Oh, won't you please?" Cordelia pursed her lips, "I'm really desperate for a partner at this point."

"I suppose I could spare an hour, perhaps," he remarked, looking to the sky.

"Oh, thank you so much, Robin," she smiled and embraced him, "I'm working just up here." She led the young tactician up the dirt path. Having no other choice, given that she was determined to catch him the instant he was next available, Anna followed, still under cover, of course. The pegasus knight led her companion to a grassy clearing, making it difficult for Anna to find a nearby hiding spot, but she found an oak that was large and served well enough.

"So, what is it you need me to do?" the tactician looked up to the pegasus knight, who was slightly taller than he.

"I'm practicing my balance on the pegasus, trying to see if I can reduce the sway when I use my lances," she reported, sidling up to the porcelain-white pegasus that whinnied at her.

"I see..." Robin nodded appreciatively at the creature, "but what do you need me for?"

"If it's not too much trouble, I was hoping you could ride behind me and hold my hips so that I don't fall off. I'll be moving a bit more freely that usual, you see," she smiled broadly at him, though there was a touch of unnervation in her voice.

Anna found herself frowning again. Was this all just to torture her? It was as if the pegasus knight knew she were watching and wanted to upset her as much as possible. But what could she do? Cordelia was perfection, according to just about everyone. What did this merchant girl have on perfection. Undisturbed, Robin shrugged, "If you're comfortable with it, I'm happy to help."

"Thank you again," she patted his shoulder. She mounted up on the pegasus and bid the tactician follow, pulling him up with her arm, and then coaxing his hands into position outside her thighs.

"Just hold tight. I'll try not to bump you," she laughed, turning to face front and lift her lance. Anna sat and lamented her position as she waited for the two to finish their "special" training, with the tactician's arms _certainly_ never failing to keep a tight grip on the pegasus knight's waist. It went on for about an hour, as Robin had provided, at which time the merchant was ready to give up and storm off before the heat completely consumed her, but she was halted as she saw Robin dismount the ivory beast.

"I really must be going, sorry," he waved to Cordelia as his feet touched the ground.

"That's quite all right. I think you gave me all the help I needed," she grinned in reply, "I'll certainly call on you first if I need to be held anymore."

Anna thought she might leap out and choke that smarmy redhead.

Fortunately, she could count on Robin's being Robin to shine through, "Glad to be of service." He began to stride away from her back down the dirt path. Cordelia watched him go, not sure what to make of his final remark.

Anna readied herself, she wouldn't be distracted this time. She would walk straight up to Robin, look him in the eyes and ask-

"Robin! You gotta help me find my dragonstone!"

The tactician was met with Nowi, the little manakete girl bawling and pleading, tugging at his cloak. It took everything Anna had not to scream.

"Oh?" he looked down at her, caught by surprise, "Well... where did you see it last?"

"I accidentally chucked it into those woods," she admitted, pointing her finger and letting the tears stream down her face.

"Is that right? I suppose I could help you hunt for it a bit," he decided sympathetically, "Let's see." He began to examine the tree line. Finding nothing immediately, he decided to draw nearer, looking through the mass of dense foliage. He continued to hunt and shake his head while Nowi sniffled at his heels, apologizing every other silent moment. "Don't despair, we'll get it!" assuaged the tactician in a very enthusiastic and almost fatherly manner.

"I could swear it went right around here," Nowi provided a vague indication with her hand.

"Say, what's that in the tree there?" Robin wondered, looking up.

"That's it, that's it!" the manakete girl shouted excitedly.

"Brilliant," Robin smiled in response, "now, let's see..." He began to look for a route to the scale the tree that allowed him to remain as horizontal as possible. Figuring one out, he proceeded up a web of limbs until finally arriving at the intended destination. Carefully, he plucked the emerald ball from its erstwhile prison and slid back down, inching his way along. Once he had descended the mighty foliage, the tactician returned the hefty stone to its owner.

"Oh, thankyouthankyouthankyou!" exclaimed Nowi as she received the item from her savior, "You're the nicest, Robin! I dunno what I would have done without you!"

"It's nothing," he dismissed, "but I'm afraid I must be off."

"Not before Nowi gives you a big hug for all your help," she corrected.

"Er, thank you," Robin choked from within the vice grip of the centuries-old girl.

"Mmm," the manakete mused, pulling away, "you have a nice, strong, warm chest. Nowi wouldn't mind being hugged by you forever!"

Anna practically snapped. She could handle sultry dark mages and perfectionist pegasus knights trying to court Robin, but she would not stand for flirting from someone who looked younger than ten!

"I don't think we quite have that much time, but I appreciate the sentiment," Robin chuckled, "Now, as I said..." He waved Nowi off, reminding her to take care not to lose the artifact again, and she cheered for him once more before he continued down the same dirt path.

Anna sighed to herself and clenched her fist. This time, she wouldn't try to confront him directly, rather she would drum up the semblance of needing something, then strike up the conversation by having him aid her. Yes, it was a brilliant scheme, all she needed to do was find something that appeared to beg a need. Anna's eyes widened as she got an idea. After a moment, she gathered a few heavy-looking parcels from her surplus and returned to the path, finally finding Robin unmolested.

"Anna," he smiled on seeing her, "I've been looking for you all day."

"Oh, 'sat right?" Anna feigned disaffectedness, "It's not like I've been hiding."

"I'm sure," he chuckled, "I've just been running into a lot of distractions today, it seems."

"That's too bad," Anna replied tersely, pretending to groan under the weight of her cargo.

"Uh, do you need a hand with that?" Robin offered as she struggled by.

"Would you be willing?" she smiled earnestly and with relief, "It would be a big help."

"Of course," he bowed, proceeding to take the merchandise off of Anna's hands, "Why, this is hardly heavy at all."

"Well they were killing me," Anna sighed, "maybe I'm just worn out, or maybe..." She looked up to wink at him, "Maybe it's those big muscles of yours."

"Probably the former," he sighed, "honestly, I could stand to carry a hundred of these."

"Can I talk to you about something?" Anna wondered as they marched back toward her tent.

"Anything," he offered, keeping pace.

"You know, when you saw me earlier today... in the mess..." she pressed her fingers together.

"Hm?" he shrugged, "You were in the mess? I don't really remember."

"You... don't remember anything I might have said or done?" she cocked an eyebrow.

"No..." he exaggerated the syllable suspiciously, "Should I?"

"No, just curious," Anna faced forward unconvincingly.

"Right," Robin's voice still demonstrated suspicion. He was distracted quickly, however, "Ah, crows' beaks, my legs are sore."

"Probably from all that time you spent perched on that pegasus," Anna grumbled.

Robin raised his eyebrow again, "Huh? How did you know I was on a pegasus today?"

Anna broke into a cold sweat, "W-Well, I was... there are feathers..."

"Maybe we need to lengthen our little chat," Robin leered at her as they approached the merchant's tent.

* * *

"Hee hee," Morgan giggled with her palm over her mouth, "mom can be so silly."

"You can say that again," her father concurred.

"So, what's on today's super-special training regimen, father?" Morgan balled her fists in determination.

"Training?" he raised an eyebrow, "Er, nothing. I was thinking you might like to come into town with me today."

"Oh," she paused, as if the concept was alien, "So, uh, no monsters to fight or beasts to slay?"

"Certainly not," he chuckled.

"Rats," Morgan stowed a pouch full of a suspciciously glittery powder in her pocket. She whispered to it, "Next time."

Robin watched his daughter with his eyes half shut in disbelief, "...Anyway, where do you suppose we should go next?"

Morgan scanned the rows of shops that lined the square before her and her father until a detail caught her eye, "There!"

Robin watched his daughter's eyes shimmer as she pointed out the small restaurant, "You're hungry again? We just ate two hours ago, Morgan."

"Aw, please, father?" she pursed her lips, "The soup looks _really_ good. Seriously, look at the way those people are slurping it up."

Robin gave in, "I suppose a little snack wouldn't hurt either one of us, but don't you go getting gluttonous on me, young lady."

"No chance," she saluted in solidarity, "I'll add twenty more push-ups to my workout tonight."

"There's a good girl, come away," the former tactician smiled and wrapped an arm around her back, leading her on. As they approached the stand, Robin held up a finger to indicate he desired service. A large man with bushy eyebrows came to take care of them.

"What'll ya have?" he grunted.

"Two," Robin called, "one beef, one..." He looked to his daughter to provide an answer.

"Pork," she resounded.

"And one pork," her father reiterated. The large man nodded gruffly and walked away.

"The smell here is wonderful," Morgan declared dreamily, taking a big whiff.

"Mind you don't drool on the counter, dear," Robin sighed at his daughter, whose tongue now hung openly over the bench that acted as a service counter.

"No promises," she grinned, eagerly awaiting her food. He scoffed with humor and they sat in silence a moment awaiting the return of the large man. "Father, I have some questions I've been meaning to ask you, and now seems like a good opportunity," Morgan said quickly, looking up from the counter.

"Is that right?" his eyes widened with interest, "Well, go ahead."

"First, will you teach me philosophy?" she clasped her hands together.

"I'll be happy to teach you anything you want to learn, if I can," he nodded, "I just have to find some room in the schedule"

"Great," her mouth pulled up into a smile, "next question: How much do you know about the hero prince hailed in the sagas as 'Roy?'"

"Less than I would like to, I'm afraid," Robin sighed, "most histories of his existence have been hoarded in Valm, and they're very reluctant to provide the information. Even when I've directly offered some collectors money, they've refused. Very strange. I know quite a bit about his father, Eliwood, however."

"Oh?" Morgan's face fell, "What a shame... I'd encountered the same roadblock. I thought perhaps you might have been able to circumvent it somehow. I feel like I would enjoy his story, that of a red-haired heir going on to live up to the legacy of her father, demonstrating to all the world her right to own her bloodline, and besting evils even her father couldn't."

"'His,'" her father corrected, "Roy was a young man."

"Isn't that what I said?" Morgan looked up. Her father smiled and dismissed it. "At any rate, last question, I think: How many children do you think you and mother are going to have?"

Robin lurched, "That's a bit of a leap, dear."

"Sorry," she put her thumb under her chin, "I'm just curious."

"Well," the former tactician rubbed his neck, "I don't know that we really have a plan... I suppose we'll just start with you and see what happens."

"Oh, okay," Morgan dropped her head, "I was just thinking it was kind of lonely around the house with no brothers or sisters to play with."

"A child is a big responsibility, Morgan, you should know that. Your mother and I can't just go having babies left and right because you want a new playmate," he replied sternly.

"I know, I know," she managed earnestly, "I just want your Morgan, er, this one, the one about to be born, to have the best and most fulfilling life she possibly can."

"Well, that's very thoughtful of you, Morgan, but as her parents, I think your mother and I basically have that covered," he let a smile slip out.

"Sure," she rubbed her neck nervously, "don't let me tell you your business."

"It's all right, Morgan," Robin held his hand up for a pledge, "I swear I'll care for you as best as I am possibly able."

"I know you will, father," she hugged him. After a warm pause, she opened her mouth again, "Say, father, I thought of one more important question, and this one's a biggun."

"Go ahead," he allowed genially.

"Um... I have an idea of what happens, but, if we're on the subject of children... do you think you could explain some of the more mechanical aspects of reproduction to me? You know, like, uh, what goes where, and how that all works?" she asked with determination.

"B-Boy, that soup sure is taking a while," Robin blushed, pretending to seek out their server.

* * *

Anna rested her chin upon her elbow, which itself rested on the length of wood that stretched before her and stood as the counter for her stall. She tapped her fingers on her jaw lethargically as the baking sun beat down on her. This was a long, boring, tiring day, and she couldn't wait to get off to see her husband again. She smiled briefly at the thought of him.

"Hiya, miss! You look worn out!" announced a cheery voice over the stall.

Anna looked up and tried to jump into a more presentable posture, "Erm, I guess you could say that. Can I help you with something?" Anna looked down at the figure, a small girl in all pale blue clothing. She looked cute and seemed to shift between degrees of juvenility. A few curly chestnut-colored bangs sat on her face.

"Can I interest you in a little refreshing... magic?" the girl offered ceremoniously, gesturing exorbitantly with her hands.

"What do you mean?" Anna replied, amused by the little girl.

"I mean I got the cure for what ails ya, ma'am," she bowed, "Will you watch and be amazed?"

"Go on," Anna shrugged with a pleasant smile.

The girl clapped and rubbed her hands together, "A few minor incantations... _hanc ego sum_! ...Aaaand, bazam!"

Anna started as a cloud of misty water fell onto her head, cooling her off without leaving her damp, "Oh, that really was refreshing! Thank you, dear."

"Not at all, not at all," the girl bowed with pride.

"Can I give you something in return?" Anna offered.

"Got any good tomes I can take off your hands?" the girl returned, staring at the merchandise behind the redheaded merchant.

Anna scanned the shelf and brought one down, brandishing it for the girl, "Try this one. It's for an experimental hypnosis-type magic. I think it's up your alley."

"Brilliant," the girl claimed the book excitedly, "Thank you, miss."

"Thank you," Anna repeated, gesturing reciprocally.

"Well, I gotta split. Tip your waitress, honey!" the girl nodded before taking off.

Anna shrugged. Odd girl.


	19. Wear

Robin stood, daughter accompanying him. His eyes strained on the horizon, finding the small building ahead. He frowned, he should have been there sooner. He looked with distaste at his legs, wondering why they refused to carry him any faster. Morgan tugged at his arm and they kept moving. This was one of the most important moments in the former tactician's life, and yet all of the urgency seemed lost on him. The months had seemed to pass by so quickly, leading into this rather forseeable climax. Robin had continued to return to Chrom, and each day the exalt's experts would evaluate the former tactician before concluding they could draw no new information and releasing him for the day. He and Chrom would talk, as before, then he would stroll through town and, at one point or another, he would begin to make his way home to his wife an future daughter.

The time had been mostly uneventful, to his surprise. War was all Robin had ever known, so this era of peace confused him. The monotony of it all... what was he meant to do? He would return to the gracious smiles of his family each day, and that was a reward in itself, but what was his purpose now? He felt useless.

Anna's purpose in this period was certainly no mystery. As the weeks had bled into months the tactician saw his wife's stomach swell more and more, awaiting the inevitable conclusion they were speeding toward. Of course, Anna found this far less amusing than did her husband, but he always reminded her how special all of this was to him. Anna felt unworthy of complaining as the days passed, too, seeing her husband push himself out of bed to help Chrom along and return at sundown with the same tired, fading look in his eyes every evening, but a bright and welcoming smile projected at his wife and daughter. She couldn't hide her concern as she saw Robin sigh as he rubbed his eyes or groan while straightening his back when he believed no one was looking.

Morgan hadn't changed much in the course of the affair, though much like children do when they are informed they will be receiving a new sibling, she became more and more obsessed with being around her mother and with speaking to the past version of herself as though she could hear. Every night, Anna and her husband chuckled as the grown version of their daughter would recount the details of their marriage to Anna's stomach, gesturing and elaborating for someone who certainly couldn't see her. Half the time, Morgan would wear herself out in the showmanship of it all and collapse into sleep in the middle of a story, but her parents only smiled and shook their heads, happy to have the storytelling left to their daughter for a while.

But this was now, Robin had psyched himself back into the moment, pushing through the door of the building. He forced his way through two more doors and arrived at the room where Anna sat, a white sheet draped over her and a damp rag over her forehead. She looked fatigued and ill, but smiled at the pair as they drifted through the threshold.

"I'm... sorry. For not being here sooner," Robin relayed, taking his wife's hand with a pitiable frown.

"Late-schmate," she chuckled, "I don't think you've seen anything yet, tactician-boy."

"Yeah, Anna's still got a little while to go," commented a toned-down chipper voice.

"Lissa?" Robin's eyes widened, "Gods' sakes... they've got you in here?"

"Not exactly my dream job, either," Lissa pouted, "but my brother wanted to see to it we get things done right, here, and I'm a healer. It's part of my job. Anyway, I'm more of a nurse. Libra's doing the, uh... nitty-gritty."

"You're comfortable with all this?" Robin raised an eyebrow at his wife.

"If I wasn't, do you think I'd be in the position I am right now?" Anna said snidely.

Robin looked down at his wife's upraised legs, "No."

"They've got the training, Robin, honey," she nodded, "so I think I'm in the best hands possible. Unless either you or Morgan learned how to deliver a baby at some point and decided not to tell me." They both shook their heads softly, and Morgan grimaced at the very thought, looking as far away from her mother's waist as she could.

"How are you feeling, Anna?" begged Robin's eyes.

"Oh, I'm all right. Not the most excited I've ever been, but, you know, surviving," she giggled, straining to stroke back her hair.

"Morgan, why don't you go fetch a fresh towel for your mother?" her father commanded.

"Yessir," she hurried out and shut the door behind her. Robin looked down at his wife more critically.

"I'm scared, Robin," she admitted, staring at the ceiling.

"I know," he held her hand softly, "I am too."

"I keep thinking about what could go wrong, what if she's delivered wrong, or if there's some kind of defect, or if I did something-"

"Anna! That kind of fear is reasonable, but you're going to worry yourself to death with it," he husband reasoned, clutching her hand with both of his, "I know it's hard, but you just have to try not to think about those sorts of things. You have to stay focused. Just concentrate on doing your part."

"Easy for you to say," she frowned and put the back of her hand to her head.

"I know," he repeated sadly, "but you have to try, all right? I'm here for you, too, okay? We can do this together." Anna's lips pursed, but she said nothing. "I... don't remember much, but..." Robin sighed, "I remember one thing my mother once did for me. I want you to hold my hand. I want you to hold it as tight as you want. And when you're in pain, or when you're scared, or when you feel lost, or when you just can't take it anymore, I want you to squeeze it. Crush my hand as hard as you want. I don't care if you break it, but however much pain you're feeling, I want you to exert it onto my hand."

"What on earth will that do?" Anna rolled her eyes.

"I know it's silly, but trust your husband, please," he insisted.

"All right," she allowed, grabbing his palm.

"And I swear I won't let go," Robin smiled.

"Me too," she brushed a lock of hair out of her face.

The door clicked as Morgan pushed back through it, "Here you go, mom!" She replaced the towel with a fresher one, that sparkled white in contrast to her mother's ragged ruby-red hair.

"Thanks, honey," she nodded.

"Hey, while we're gathered up here, how about a story?" Robin supposed.

"Ooh! Yes, yes, yes!" Morgan jumped.

"No fair," Anna coughed, "I'm in no position to defend myself if you tell lies."

"Don't worry, this story is all true," Robin smirked, "I know it by heart. It's about a big change that left a certain someone feeling nervous."

Anna settled into her sheet and Morgan found a chair.

* * *

"Oh, wow," Lissa said dreamily, meandering about the castle floor. Anna looked up, but smiled and said nothing. "Hey, I shouldn't be living all the excitement vicariously, here," Lissa noted, leering at the redhead, "You're the one getting married! Doesn't that enthuse you even a little bit?"

"I guess it's still taking some time to sink in," Anna decided coolly.

"More than a little while!" Lissa shouted, "The wedding's tomorrow, and you're still just sitting here, reading!"

"Mm," Anna looked down, "fancy that."

"Don't you get what I'm saying?!" Lissa railed, "In less than twenty-four hours your life as you once knew it will be over! It'll be a whole new world, married life!"

"I guess I didn't think of it that way," Anna shrugged, "I just thought of it as deciding to permanently room with my best friend."

"Yes, yes, that's very cute," Lissa pouted, "but how can you possibly be so casual about it? I mean, we all know Robin as a nice guy, but what if he turns out to be a bastard when you get married, or what if you find out one of you two is impotent and your marriage is totally fruitless, or what if you never get to leave your house because you have to take care of children and your husband... what if Robin has an accident and becomes a vegetable, and you have to wash him like an infant for the rest of his life?!"

"Lissa, gods' sakes!" her brother chided, "Not only can I hear you from upstairs, you are scaring the daylights out of that poor woman!"

"Em, sorry," Lissa rubbed her neck, "maybe I went a bit overboard."

"You think?" Anna's eye twitched, trying to dismiss the image of her bathing her husband like a child. "Robin... none of that stuff will happen... I'm... I'm sure it will be fine," Anna sighed.

"I'm just saying, it's a life-changing event," Lissa mused, moving on to whatever her next project was.

That's true, Anna was forced to acknowledge. Maybe she wasn't giving this as much thought as she ought to have. This _would_ be the end of her being a one-woman operation, but she had wanted that to end, hadn't she? The endless tracts of land became so boring without another voice, another body to accompany her, and Robin was simply the best body she could bring along. Er, not for that purpose of course, but... Oh, she knew what she had meant. Still, their wedding was tomorrow, and yet Anna felt as if it had been months since she'd last conversed with her husband. Day after day, hour after hour, minute by minute for the whole week she had been picking out colors and arrangements and lists and furniture and music... the whole of it was enough to make her sick with fatigue. She wondered if her husband had been enduring anything similar, having basically been pounced upon by Lissa and Maribelle at the news of the engagement. Maribelle made a vehement promise that she would see Robin looking like a "real, presentable man," whatever that meant.

Anna, of course, had been cautioned not to seek out her groom until after the wedding, having been told that it was bad luck for the two to meet before their appointed time. It had been dreadfully boring, sitting in the castle without her fiance to talk to. This, she supposed, was a good sign for their marriage, wasn't it? That she felt more entertained just by sharing a room with the man. Anna shivered, it had grown cold in the castle, despite the sun's being high overhead. She pondered whether or not she might take a walk to find some relief for her boredom.

As if on cue, Sully strode by at that moment, "Well, lookit you."

"Hi, Sully," Anna responded tersely.

"Hey, girly," the knight saluted, "big day tomorrow, eh?" Anna nodded. Sully cocked an eyebrow, "What's with the smile-and-nod business, lady? Whatsa matter?"

"Sully... when you got married... I mean... does it feel any different?" Anna wrung her hands.

"Different?" Sully looked up to recall, "Hell, I s'pose it has to be kinda different, doesn't it? I mean, no it's not the same as when I was a single woman. Of course it isn't."

"What I mean is... do you feel different, being with him, as opposed to how you did before?" Anna tried to find the words.

"You're not crappin' out on me, are you? Stahl's the same man I married, if that's what you're asking," Sully chuckled.

"But are you the same woman?" Anna followed up.

Sully screwed her face up, "What in the... What the hell kinda question is that, sister? How'n the hell am I supposed to know?"

"So you don't know?" the merchant concluded.

"I... guess?" Sully shrugged, "The hell are you playin' at?"

"I don't want to... you know... make a mistake," Anna sighed.

"Mistake?" the knight raised an eyebrow, "Aw, crapsacks, why're you goin' around saying things like that? You know whatta guy Robin is, dontcha? Does he really seem like the type to screw over his own wife?"

"No, but, I mean, can we know for sure?" Anna pressed her finger to her cheek.

"I ain't much for sentimentalist stuff, but, cliched as it is, I'd say ya gotta follow your heart on that one, girly," Sully sighed, "Now, if you're done moping, I gotta shake a leg."

"Sure," the redheaded merchant bowed, "don't let me keep you."

"Follow her heart," eh? What a nonsensical piece of advice. Honestly, Anna could have asked anyone and gotten the same answer. She expected Sully to be a bit more brutally honest about the situtation. Was something happening here, then? Were the other Shepherds forseeing a problem but refusing to talk about it for fear of upsetting her? Oh, gods, this was too much! Anna chided herself, it was silly to be so worked up over these things, they were just details getting to her head. The real picture was that she was to be wed to the love of her life the following day, and it would be great, and then they would... hm, what would they do? Anna's mind became gripped again: what if she was forced to go out of business? What if the tactician divorced her, or just flat-out stole her money? Could this all be some sort of elaborate plot to take from her success? And what if she was forced away from her business because of this? Anna couldn't take that thought.

Her head spinning, Anna elected to take that walk after all, throwing aside the ring on her finger. She needed to be away from it to make a decision.

* * *

"Now, remember, your salad fork is to be aligned on the left side of your plate, closest to your left hand when you sit down..." Robin felt his eyes glaze over as Maribelle droned on before him.

"I think that'll suffice, Maribelle," Robin pleaded, "four hours of etiquette cramming is about all I can take."

"I'm only trying to make certain you keep your bearing and don't look the fool before every noble house in Ylisse," Maribelle crossed her arms.

"I know," he nodded, "and I appreciate that, really I do, but I don't think it's being productive at this point. After all, people are always telling me I need to get more rest."

"Well that's certainly true," Maribelle bit, "and who could blame them? Those bags under your eyes look like they must weigh five pounds apiece!"

"It's settled, then," the tactician grinned.

"Don't blame me when some noblewoman you've never heard of laughs you out of the castle for sipping soup with the wrong spoon," Maribelle charged before huffing out the door.

Robin only smiled and shook his head. Nobody's insults mattered, in a few short hours he would be married to the only woman that made his heart feel aflame. They would either stay in the castle, or leave to explore the world, but, no matter what, they would remain together, and they would create a paradise for themselves, one worthy of their tastes and indulgent of their preferences. He couldn't help but to smirk on thinking of his beautiful bride, picturing her smiling face at the altar in his mind, dreaming of the moment when they would be reunited and brought together for eternity... it was enough to make all the stress and preparation worth it. Robin sat back, laying on the couch in the little room and began to dream of what their life would be like.

Or he would have, if not for hearing, "Gods' sakes! Anna's gone!"

That made the tactician bolt upright and, without another word, he hurried down the staircase to find out who had been speaking.

He found Cordelia in an otherwise empty room chiding a sneering Vaike, "...You were supposed to be watching over her to see if she needed anything!"

"I've got needs too, missy," Vaike growled, "All I know is, I leave for five minutes and she's up and gone!"

"Five minutes!" the pegasus knight scoffed, "Vaike, I talked to people who said you were traipsing around the castle walls for the last five hours!"

"Well, sometimes I need a little time to think!" Vaike defended weakly.

"How can you think when your skull is so clearly devoid of any of the necessary equipment?!" Cordelia barked at him.

"Did you say Anna's gone?" Robin creased his brow as he walked between them.

"Oh, gods, Robin!" Cordelia started, "I'm sure she's fine, she probably just went out for a walk or something..."

Robin fixed his cloak on his shoulders and put his hood up. It had begun to rain as the sun had set.

"You aren't thinking about going out there after her, are you?" Cordelia watched the tactician.

"Certainly not," he shook his head, "I'm not thinking about it, I'm doing it."

"Robin, you can't run out, too!" the pegasus knight implored, trying to catch him by the wrist.

"There is no way I'm sitting inside waiting for someone else to find my wife!" he asserted shaking away from her grip. He slammed the door behind him.

No sooner had the tactician passed through the door than the wind began to whip the rain, now falling even faster, straight into him, striking him like nails as he hastened into the outlying areas of the castle calling for his betrothed. He dashed by the gates, which almost would have seen an arrow planted between his shoulder blades, had he not been moving so fast, but he carried on, undaunted, streaking along into the pockets of trees surrounding the area with his cloak rippling parallel to his shoulders behind him. He continued to call for the redheaded merchant into the darkness as the rain pelted him and soaked his clothes. As he trudged through the more forested areas, his boots quickly filled with splashes of mud and rainwater. Still, Robin did not give up on calling for his fiance, even as his voice quickly began to grow hoarse from the volume, and as he stuttered and tripped into the molasses-like ground beneath him over and over.

Eventually, as the wind whipped and the rain cut, the tactician, standing from yet another spill, fell short of breath and leaned against a tree, forced to pause. "Anna!" he called hopelessly, weakly into the woods, "I... I'm sorry for whatever it is I did!" No sound in reply. The tactician shook his head, aware that he was talking to himself, but decided to continue, pleadingly, "Just, whatever you do, please go back to the castle, all right? At least let it be known that you're safe, okay? I'm sorry. I don't know what I did to make you hate me this much, but please don't get yourself killed because of it. I could never forgive myself..."

Defeated, the tactician strode further into the tree line, wondering if he should ever bother to wander back out. The rain continued to pound a steady rhythm on the foliage and Robin, exhausted, dropped flat onto the ground. He sat still a moment and collected his thoughts until a soft sound reached his ears. It was melancholic and periodic, like a sonata played by a ghostly pianist, and it prompted the tactician to rise to his feet once more and walk toward it. He found a clearing beneath the swath of trees that covered the landscape and pushed through to it, following the sound, which then led him over a small hillside, to a little ravine on the outskirts of the castle grounds. It was there the tactician thanked the gods he found her, his fiance, though she was sobbing to herself.

"Anna! You're all right!" the tactician shouted, stumbling toward her. He fell into the mud again but recovered and sidled down the remainder of the incline to reach her.

"R-Robin?" she wondered mystily.

"Yes, it's me," he comforted, drawing near.

"I'm so sorry..." she sighed, "I'll bet I put you through such trouble..."

"No trouble at all," he grinned earnestly.

She turned to face him, "Gods! Robin, your leg!"

Robin looked down, becoming aware of a dull but throbbing pain in his leg, and saw what had caught the merchant's eye: between the ankle and shin, Robin's leg sat at an unnatural and unpleasant angle, his foot resting limply in the mud. "Oh," he realized, "Ow! Damn! Now that you mention it, that smarts!"

"What do you mean 'now?'" her eyes widened in disbelief, "How did you get all the way out here like that?"

He shrugged, "I... guess I was so worried about you I didn't even notice."

She stared at him, for what to both of them seemed an eternity, until eventually declaring, "I'll understand if you want to call the wedding off."

"I just wish you would have told me," he frowned, "whatever it was that made you hate me this much, I wish you'd let me apologize."

She fed him a piteous frown, "You didn't do anything."

"Then why did you run out here and scare me to death?" he placed his hand over his heart.

"Because... I was frightened, Robin. I... I wasn't sure how my life was going to change once we were wed," she confessed.

"So was I," he shrugged, "but I thought, 'This is the love of my life we're talking about. Whatever change she brings about can only be for the better.'"

"I'm sorry," she bowed, "I couldn't share in that kind of confidence. I... I guess I'm just afraid of change, Robin. I've known one life for so long, I don't know how to operate any differently."

"You think you've got it bad," he snickered, "being in the Shepherds was, quite literally, my whole life until I started travelling with you."

"I suppose that's so," she didn't look at him.

"But, I'll tell you what, Anna," he surmised, inhaling, "if the prospect of change makes you uncomfortable, it seems to me there's a simple solution: we'll promise never to change one another."

"What?" she fought a smile.

"I'll swear to never try to change you, so long as I'm alive. After all, you're perfect the way you are," he smiled affably at her.

She shook her head, "That is... _so_ trite..."

"It's a curse," he accepted, "but does it make you feel any better?"

"You swear on your life you'll never try to make me do anything outside of what I feel comfortable doing? That you'll let my life continue uninterrupted?" she elaborated.

"Of course," he nodded, "so long as you're willing to make that 'our lives.'"

"I think we might have a deal," Anna mused.

"And if I ever break that promise, you can slip off that ring and divorce me on the spot. I won't be bitter or angry with you, you can just go," he continued.

Anna paused and frowned a moment, heartbroken by the thought of abandoning her ring and leaving the tactician by himself. But that was what she had done this evening, "Oh, Robin, I'd never do that! I'm... so sorry for worrying you like this."

"Hey, no harm done," he assuaged, "you had your reasons." Staring at his leg another moment, he added, "Okay, maybe a little harm done."

"Oh, be serious!" she punched his arm playfully, tears in her eyes.

"Whatever comes of this marriage, remember that I love you, Anna, and that we'll always be in it together," he held out his hand to her.

She ignored it and kissed him, "I know that. I've always known that... My nerves just got the better of me..."

"Well then, let me ask you one more time," he slipped off his hood, letting the deluge spill onto his face and mat down his hair, then lowering himself gingerly onto the knee of his bent leg, "All honesty, no pressure... will you marry me, Anna?"

"Don't be stupid, of course I will," she held him. They stayed locked in the embrace for a full minute before recovering awareness of their situation. "We can't stay out here with you like this," Anna remarked, pointing to his leg.

"Suppose we can't," he agreed, "incidentally, what left you lying here, of all places?"

"I slipped and fell and gashed my arm," she recalled, presenting a torn sleeve with a wound traced along it.

"Anna! Why didn't you say so?!" before she could explain, he had lifted her up and began to trudge unevenly back toward the castle.

"I can still walk," she raised an eyebrow at him.

"You need medical attention," he declared obliviously.

Anna shrugged and let herself be carried, "You know, it's bad luck, they say, for us to see each other tonight."

"I think 'they' are full of crap," Robin grunted, "missing you and waking up to an empty altar would have been the biggest stroke of misfortune in my life."

A mighty flap introduced Cordelia as her pegasus descended onto the two, "Robin! What in the seven hells were you thinking?! You could have died!"

"Well, I didn't," he countered nonchalantly.

"And where were you, for gods' sakes?" Cordelia looked down to the merchant in his arms.

"I... I'm sorry... I was-"

"She went to buy flowers, but forgot to tell anyone she was leaving. She was robbed on the side of the castle road and got her arm cut up. That's how I found her," reported the tactician. He winked at his companion.

Cordelia wanted to be angry, but only sighed, "I suppose it's not much your fault, then is it? Please be more careful to inform people next time."

"I will," she nodded, pleased, to the other redhead.

"Now, Robin would you... wyvern's wings! Look at your leg!" Cordelia screamed.

"Yeah, I know," he grunted sarcastically, "You wanna give us a ride, or just gawk at it some more, reminding me of how much pain I'm in?"

"Were you going to _walk_ back to the castle like that?" Cordelia wondered.

"That was the plan," he shrugged.

Cordelia shook her head, "Let's just... get you two back. Ugh, what an ordeal..."

The trio returned to the castle and Robin and Anna had their wounds tended to in time for the ceremony, not without more than a few vicious verbal reprimands. No one was surprised when Robin came down with a fever the week after the ceremony, but his wife stayed happily by his side and nursed him back to health.

* * *

Robin finished recounting the story calmly as his wife grunted and screamed loudly, positively flattening his palm in her own. Morgan watched, her eyes showing strain, but after a moment, a climax and cacophony of shouts, things fell silent. Anna let herself breath in large gasps as Libra walked away from the bed on which she sat. After rubbing a wet towel over the small figure, Libra swaddled it in another towel and presented it to the redhead with the most cathartic phrase she'd ever heard in all her life: "Perfectly healthy."

Robin dropped his head and closed his eyes, a tear escaping, his mouth showing a relieved smile. He and his wife looked with shimmering stares at the newborn, which grasped blindly in the open air.

"One thing..." Libra noted with a hint of confusion.

Anna's heart rate shot up, "What?"

"The child... it's a boy."


	20. Expansion

W-What...?" Anna remarked flatly, her eyes blank.

"This is your... son," Libra finished uneasily, gesturing to the child folded into his mother's arms.

"So I do have a brother," Morgan made no secret of letting an excited smile creep onto her face, though she remained as mystified as her parents.

"But how can that be?" Robin stroked the underside of his chin.

"Well, we did alter the future..." Libra suggested in passing, "technically, anything could be possible."

"But we will still have Morgan, won't we?" Anna's brow trended upward at her husband.

He looked to each side, then nodded, "I think so. Maybe she was just the youngest in the family. She did lose her memory, after all."

"But what happened to her brother?" Anna continued.

"On that front, I might be able to help you," introduced a somber but pleasing voice. The silver-haired man pushed his way into the room and ran his hand vertically through his hair, "Um, hi. I think we might need to talk."

"You're that guy from before... Ah..." Anna struggled to recall.

"Acien," his lips curled into a smirk at one side.

"So you're the mysterious silver-haired man that's been making so many inquiries about me," Robin folded his arms, evaluating the youth.

"I apologize if I disturbed you in any way," he looked at his feet.

"Acien..." Robin repeated, "Is that really the name I gave my first-born son?"

All eyes focused on Robin, but the silver-haired man creased his brow into something of a bitter smile, "All my careful hiding, and you've put it together already, eh?"

"An educated guess based on recent history," the former tactician chuckled.

"Ah, well," sighed the young man, "You know what they say about the best laid plans of mice and men. It's good to know my father was always as astute as they said."

"So it's true?" Anna interjected, "You... and this baby..."

"We're one and the same," he nodded, "I know it might be hard to believe, and I was counting on Morgan to be my proof, but, as you can guess, complications arose..."

"What sort of 'complications?'" Robin raised an eyebrow.

"It's... a long story," the man breathed with equal humor and despair.

"You're my big brother, huh?" Morgan's eyes tried the defendant.

"Yes, Morgan. Your big brother's here," he embraced the small redhead, "and he never thought he'd be quite so happy to see his little sister unharmed."

The girl giggled as he held her and breathed heavily, "Hey, you can't be all mopey! You're supposed to be my shoulder to cry on!"

"You're right, love," he grabbed her shoulders, "big brother will take you to the reading room and we'll sip tea and share stories, like we used to." Robin and Anna shared smiles as their apparent future offspring stood and composed himself, turning in their direction, "Mother... and father... I've missed you both greatly as well." The silver-haired man took his mother's hand politely and nodded at his father.

"It's all right," Anna acknowledged, reading his mind, "I believe you."

"Mother," he whispered, lowering his head. She kissed it.

"Tell me, though," the redheaded woman instructed as her son's head rose, "From whence did 'Acien' come?"

His eyes flashed and he chuckled softly, "A bit of baroque on my part, I'm afraid. That's a false name. I wanted to see if you would choose the same one for me in this time."

Robin exchanged a glance with his wife, "You won't tell us?"

"No, I want to hear it from your lips. Whatever you decide, I'll accept it," he shook his head.

"Are you sure?" his father leered.

"Yes. For gods' sakes, don't keep me in suspense," laughed the silver-haired man.

Robin and Anna paused a moment and stared at one another once more. "Samuel?" Anna provided, "No, too plain."

"Soren?" supposed Robin, "No, ill-fitting; too delicate."

Anna twisted her tongue idly, "Sal- Sa- St... Hmm... Se..."

"Steven?" Robin said aloud. His and his wife's eyes lit up.

"Steven?" Anna repeated, looking to the tiny figure in her arms.

"Steven," her husband declared.

The silver-haired man smiled, "Then you must be my parents. That was my name."

"Welcome to the family, Steven," his father provided a hand.

His son took it, "Thank you, father. Or did you mean your precious babe?"

"Both," Robin winked.

"You must have quite a story, getting here," Anna nodded at her son.

"I suppose, but... now's not really the time," Steven scratched the back of his neck.

"And why not?" Robin wondered.

"It'll come in due time, father," the silver-haired youth breathed.

"What will you tell us, then?" Robin raised an eyebrow, "Why have you come here?"

"I..." he stared at his feet again, "I must be cautious in distributing information. I do not wish to alter history more than necessary."

"Lucina said something similar to Chrom once," Robin recalled.

Steven nodded, "Her purpose and mine are similar. But perhaps I have already said too much." Steven stroked his chin idly, "For the time being, suffice it to say I was interested in hearing about my mother and father in the past."

"Did you come from Lucina's ruined future?" Robin asked.

"No. Mine is, or was, a world wherein man reins supreme," said the man.

"But you couldn't ask your own mother and father for their histories?" continued the former tactician.

"Perceptive as always, father," he bowed, "I suppose there's no getting around this much: both my parents are... were... will be dead."

"But how?" Anna sat up.

"I don't wish to say," admitted the silver-haired man.

"So, how did you get on living?" his father inquired.

"We traveled together," he explained with duress.

"You and Morgan?" Robin perpetuated.

"Yes," he nodded, "We traveled for quite some time."

"Ever find any work?" Anna wondered idly.

"Actually," Steven smiled faintly, "because of my father's reputation, I was frequently sought for counsel, but I knew nothing of war or the intricacies of geopolitics, so I became... well, you might call me an orator, or perhaps a bard, though I do not sing. I delivered speeches and I created tales. Eventually, I did become involved in politics. Soon I was called on to represent every noble from here to Chon'sin and back. I waged wars with words, and I always won, in service of the legacy of my legendary late father."

"And Morgan was with you all that time?" Robin continued.

"Regrettably, no, occupations forced us to go our separate ways. I know for a fact that Morgan also found marginal success, however," reported the silver-haired man distantly.

"So what brought you back together to return to the past?" Anna grew a bit frustrated.

"As I said, we wished to see our forgotten parents. The rift provided the perfect opportunity," he explained.

"And how did you come upon this 'rift?'" Robin's eyes interrogated.

"Alas, I will remain mute on that point," Steven folded his arms.

"If Morgan came back to hear stories about us, I'd say 'Mission Accomplished,'" Anna giggled.

"I've been begging mother and father for stories about their lives pretty much non-stop," Morgan admitted with excitement.

"Really now?" he indulged her, "you'll have to recount a few for me."

"Can we tell Steven another, mother, father?" Morgan looked to her parents.

"I'm running out of material, here," Robin scratched his head, racking his brain.

"I think I've got one," Anna surmised, touching her temple, "You see, I was..."

* * *

Anna's jaw dropped at the word.

"A date?" the tactician brushed his cloak busily.

"Oh, you needn't be so shy about it," laughed the pegasus knight softly, "I just wanted to see if we could take some time to talk like you do with the others around camp."

"W-Well, sure," he laughed nervously, "how can I say 'no?' ...Er, but, all the same, why right this moment?"

"Because," grinned the redheaded woman, "this is a most rare of circumstances: you're free and so am I. Blue moons can't even compare."

Anna was tempted to retch.

He fell for it and chuckled, "Suppose that's true enough. All right, when were you thinking?"

"Right now, if you'd have me," bowed Cordelia.

"Right this moment?" his eyes widened, "Er, no. Not just now. I need to go and make sure my affairs are in order before I leave camp."

"Oh, don't be so paranoid," she waved her hand with a shimmering smile.

Robin knew it was silly to argue the point, but scowled all the same, "Indulge me."

"All right," she sighed, "but I expect to hear about you, too, when we talk."

"Of course," he nodded, parting.

Anna had half a mind to walk up and introduce the little perfectionist's face to her fist, but was dissuaded by the lance she carried. All the same, Anna's blood boiled: the nerve of that woman! Couldn't she see that Robin liked her? Did she really think she was going to steal away the man in Anna's life? ...Had she really called him that? A-At any rate, the pegasus knight would have to pay, and the tactician in equal measure... but how to proceed? Anna knew she would have to hurt them both by making a move on something that would cause them both to feel ill at ease, but what such connection might those two share? Anna's eyes lit up as she realized a plan: "Oh, that is good. And so, so bad..."

* * *

Robin sat down and sipped carefully at the piping hot cup set before him. He looked at the pegasus knight, but then dodged her gaze.

"Gods' sakes Robin, relax. I'm your date, not your warden," she giggled at him.

"I suppose I just have a busy mind," he scratched his head, "and a nervous system to match."

"Well, a bit more tea will calm your nerves, I'm sure," Cordelia offered, pushing the saucer that supported the cup toward him.

"Perhaps so, but I don't want to drink it too quickly," he regarded the beverage carefully.

"Why not?" she cocked an eyebrow.

"I don't want to burn my tongue," he shrugged, supposing it was obvious.

"Oh, no worries," the redhead's fingers drifted smoothly along the table, playfully rapping upon it, "I wouldn't let anything happen to that tongue of yours."

Robin was about to stare at her quizzically, but another notion quickly caught his attention: a bell rang as a new customer opened the café door. Robin saw Anna walk in, smiling, as she beckoned for her companion. Robin's pupils narrowed: the prince was walking in behind the merchant woman, laughing at one of her jokes. The tactician looked over to find that his companion was also distracted by the presence of the blue-haired man.

"Anna, I don't say it enough, but you really are a delight," the words fell out of Chrom's mouth like a ray of sunshine.

"Oh, Chrom, please, you'll make me blush," Anna replied in her most coquettish of voices, "such praise from one so handsome and charming."

"Now you've got me blushing," he sighed with humor. They both continued to laugh as they sat and ordered drinks.

"A good choice," Anna complimented as her date placed his order, "you have such excellent taste, Chrom."

"And, I'm told, so does the tea," they shared a laugh.

Robin clenched his fist subconsciously until the snapping of the wood on the chair that he had been gripping alerted him.

"Er, my, if I might say, you cut quite the dashing figure, Robin, dear," Cordelia told the entire café.

"Ah, well, th-thank you, Cordelia," he rubbed his neck while his attention remained on the other redhead.

"It really is nice that I might be able to spend time with one so wise and handsome... I'm proud you'd give me the time of day," the pegasus knight egged on with a grin.

"Really, you flatter me," Robin put his hands up.

Anna's eye shifted over to the tactician, who was glancing languidly back up at his date in kind. Scowling, she piped up, turning around and stroking her pant leg, "Say, Chrom, do you suppose these are too tight?"

"Oh, not at all," he smiled, "they look just fine."

She looked beneath her brow at him. "Oh, rats, is there something in my eyes?" she provided.

"I don't think so," Chrom observed.

"Look closer," she nearly clawed at his face pulling him forward by his collar.

"Ah," he gasped as he was pulled in, "W-Well... perhaps this?" He hazarded to move his hand forward and stroke the side of Anna's cheek.

She giggled, "Mm, I think that's got it."

"Oh, Robin, is there something on your shirt?" Cordelia snapped his vision back, leaning over the table. She laid a hand on his chest, "Oh, I suppose not. I didn't realize bow muscular you were."

"Um... thank you," he accepted weakly, shifting his head back and forth between both redheads.

"Goodness, Chrom, are you as hot as I?" Anna wondered aloud, wiping her forehead and sighing, "Perhaps if I just..." She tugged at the middle of her shirt and sat back resplendently as she waved the heat away, "Ooh... that's nice."

Cordelia's hand twitched and knocked her cup onto the table, spilling some of her tea onto the oblivious tactician. "Oh, gods, I'm so sorry!" she apologized as he jumped in surprise, "Aw, and all over your favorite clothes... We'll have to get those cleaned up straight away."

"That's all right," he sighed, wiping some wayward drops from his face, "it happens. No big deal."

"No, no, we really must get you cleaned up, you poor man," she argued, hurrying over to his side and wiping his face with a napkin.

"I-I can clean myself perfectly well, thank you," he determined, endeavoring to look past her.

"At least take those wet clothes off so I can clean them," the pegasus knight insisted.

"What, here?" he cocked an eyebrow, "It can wait until we get back to camp."

"Just let me see," demanded a frustrated Cordelia as she pulled Robin's hands away from and out of his cloak. "I don't see why you cover yourself so much. You're very handsome," she complimented.

"Cordelia, where is this all coming from, all of a sudden?" wondered the bewildered tactician.

"Why, whatever do you mean?" she placed a hand over her chest defensively. Anna couldn't believe it: was he really not understanding the situation?

"I take it you like your tea strong, then," Chrom acknowledged Anna, who had ignored the cup for a few minutes.

"Oh, yes... Strong and rich. That's the only way to go," she flashed her teeth at him and took a sip.

"You look cold, Robin," Cordelia offered, "Would you like me to hold you?"

"All right," Robin pushed himself out of his chair and stood, causing the saucer and cup to rattle, "this is just getting strange. Let me know when you've gotten whatever this is out of your system, Cordelia. Until then, I'll take that back," He snatched his cloak from the redhead's hands and draped it over his arms, then proceeding to walk out of the building. He paused and nodded to Chrom, "I didn't think Anna was your type, Chrom, but good for you. She's a fine woman."

"I would say the same about you and Cordelia," he reciprocated.

"Oh," the tactician laughed to himself, "this wasn't a romantic encounter."

"It wasn't?" both redheads said simultaneously.

"Didn't you say you were going on a date?" Anna asked, leering at him.

"Yes," he nodded, expecting elaboration.

"A 'date' is what you call an agreed-upon plan for an activity between two romantically interested persons," Anna explained, never believing she would have needed to.

"Oh, is that what it means? I thought it was simply a word for a meeting between friends," Robin's eyes widened and Anna thought she saw some sweat on his forehead, "That would explain why Olivia shrank into a fetal position and Maribelle tried to hit me when I asked them for one. Oh, I am so embarrassed! I'm sorry, Cordelia!"

"Please just go," she grunted, massaging the bridge of her nose, blushing all the while.

Robin nodded apologetically and left. Anna inhaled the rest of her tea and excused herself before long, leaving a bewildered Chrom to sit alone and ponder what the hell had just happened and how it was he always seemed to end up in these situations.

* * *

"Knock, knock," Anna called softly at the entrance to the tactician's tent.

"Come in," he replied from the opposite end. She complied and walked through the threshold to meet him, "Uh, hi. How are you?"

"When were you going to tell me?" he didn't look up from his books.

"About what?" she put her finger to her cheek pensively.

"How did your date with Chrom go?" he altered his approach.

"Oh," she frowned, "I... won't be seeing him again, I think."

"Why not?" Robin asked with a bitter earnestness, "'Strong and rich is the only way to go,' isn't that right?"

"I was only talking about the tea, silly," she laughed. He was unconvinced and turned his chair slightly away from her. "Oh, Robin, this is all a huge misunderstanding! I thought you knew what you were getting into with the whole 'date' thing, and so I was trying to make both you and Cordelia jealous, so..."

"Do you think that makes it all right?" he muttered.

"W-Well, you could've turned Cordelia down, too," she protested.

"I wasn't aware you'd be eavesdropping to misunderstand me," he defended.

"Robin, I swear I didn't mean anything by it," she pleaded, reaching for his hand.

"You probably didn't," he concurred, "but I certainly felt something by it."

"How many other ways can I say 'I'm sorry?'" she grunted in frustration.

"I was hoping for at least one more..." he declared enigmatically, his eyes flashing briefly.

She looked to each side of the tent, "Um... 'I'm so-' Mmph!" Her eyes widened as the tactician's lips met her own, suppressing her voice. "Really, and you call me capricious," she scoffed at him as they broke the kiss.

"I knew you didn't mean any harm. You're lucky you're so darn easy to forgive," he smiled.

"Wait just a minute..." Anna paused, "You knew about this the whole time! You knew exactly how this was going to play out, and then you gave the that wounded-dog spiel just so you could steal that sympathy kiss, didn't you?"

"I'm not this army's master strategist for nothing," he mused, winking, "Slap me if you want, it was worth it." Anna was tempted, but more impressed he had undergone such a meticulous charade just to make such an innocent gesture.

"You..." her voice faltered, "You're lucky you're so darn easy to forgive. But I get the last word, here."

"And what's th-mmh!" he looked up in time for their lips to meet again. She smiled and said nothing more, drifting out of the tent. "That wasn't a word," he called after her with a chuckle.

"Smartass," she called into the darkness.

* * *

"That's how it usually goes," Morgan nodded as her mother finished.

"Heh. How strange..." Steven drew away.

"What's strange about it?" wondered his mother.

"Nothing... the discrepancy between histories and firsthand accounts is always quite large, I suppose. That's not the sort of conduct I ever expected from my parents," elaborated the silver-haired man.

"Were we quite so mirthless in the future?" asked Robin, an amused grin on his face.

"No, you were both wonderful, but... forgive my ignorance, happy memories of my parents are few and far between in that which occupies my mind," Steven's face fell.

"That sounds... ominous," his father matched him.

"You know, Morgan wants to be a tactician, you swore to take after your father's advising legacy," Anna noted to her son, "Doesn't anyone in this family take after me?"

"Morgan wants to be a tactician?" repeated Steven, "Since when?"

"Always," Morgan asserted, "Or... as long as I can remember."

"Not in our time, dear," Steven shook his head, "Morgan took after you more than anyone else in the family, mother. Whilst I was restoring the faith of nations through communications, I needed to keep this one from plundering every locked box from here to The Warrior's Tomb. And do you know what she'd tell me when I asked her why she did these things? 'To spread the joy of wealth around, of course.' Not that she ever acted outside self interest."

"That's what you think I'm like?" Anna frowned.

"That doesn't sound like you're giving me much credit. How do you know what I was doing it for?" Morgan argued.

"Perhaps I made that sound a bit more vindictive than was my intent. I have an awful tendency to do as much from time to time," he apologized.

"A rather parlous habit for an orator and representative, wouldn't you say?" challenged Robin.

"Indeed," he nodded solemnly, "I've been trying to overcome it all my life."

"I didn't know you were making tonight the night, Steve," announced a girl's voice.

"I... you didn't... Sylvie..." was the silver-haired man's only reply.

"Sylvie?" Anna repeated.

"You're the girl who was running that rigged game," Robin recalled, "and you were with that other boy." Suddenly, Robin's face tensed, "Oh, don't tell me..."

She nodded, "Uh, good to see you again, daddy."

"Where's your brother?" wondered the former tactician, recalling the boy in the salmon-colored clothing who had been at his very doorstep not long ago.

"Leo decided he couldn't be here, not tonight, due to some... extenuating circumstances," relayed the girl, toying with the curly chestnut-colored bang that hung over her face.

"Sylvia, you shouldn't have come. This was only to be my affair," Steven told his younger sister.

"Don't gimme that," she countered, "You were the one who told us not to go talk to them, let alone reveal the truth, and look what I find you doing, in a matter'a weeks, no less."

"Curiosity... got the best of me," the oldest sibling bit his lip.

"Well, same here," the girl folded her arms.

Steven sighed and gestured forward, "This is my little sister Sylvia, another of your future children. Her twin brother, Leo, apparently decided to hold off coming tonight. If you were looking for someone who takes after you, mother, I think you'll be pleased."

"Oh yeah?" Anna's interest had been piqued, "What's your gig, sweetheart?"

"Call me a performer, darling," insisted the girl with a twirl of her baby blue cloak.

"Or a plain old swindler, like most people would call her," the silver-haired man rolled his eyes.

"Silence, biloute!" yelled Sylvia in a foreign tongue, "Tais-toi! Tu ne sais rien de mes affaires! Je ne suis pas voleur, je suis actrice! Les gens adorent le théatre!"

"And to add to her backhanded ways, she enjoys learning ancient languages that she finds sound 'pretty,'" Steven muttered the word distastefully.

"I have to admit, it did have a certain ring to it," Anna giggled.

Robin chuckled and cleared his throat, "Cet langue n'est pas plus agée, et je devinerai que ton frère doit bien le sait, par son choix de nom."

"Oh, mon père, je t'adore," Sylvia clasped her hands together happily and embraced her father happily, "I... It's like a dream to be able to see you and mother again."

"I'm rather pleased myself," understated Robin, coddling his oldest daughter.

"Heckuva reunion," her mother laughed as Sylvia turned and shoved her face into her mother's shoulder.

"Heya, short stuff," Sylvia rose and ruffled her younger sister's hair, "how've you been, all by your lonesome?"

"Managing," reported the little redhead proudly, "Father says I'm going to be a top-tier tactician in no time flat!"

"Tactician?" Sylvia assumed the same position as her older brother, "What about 'Rouge,' and- Oh, right. Yes, a tactician... that's right."

"Your brother wasn't very forthcoming with details about your journey," Robin folded his arm and tapped and finger on his elbow, "Is there anything you're willing to share with your family?"

A glimmer caught Sylvia's eye, but she buried it by staring at her feet, obscuring her face, "Come now, what kind of performer would I be if I showed my whole hand out of the gate? You'll just have to watch and be amazed, father."

"Your mother and I could help you achieve your goal, you know," Robin declared with impatience.

"Oh, I know," she surmised, "but that's not necessary right this moment. We've got more than enough time."

"I just realized something," Anna piped up, "Four. Kids. My body is aching just thinking about that."

Sylvia and Steven looked to each other for support and turned away.

"As promising as they are, I'll bet we can do it," Robin affirmed, grasping his wife's hand, "and anyway, didn't you hear? We take a ten-year break after this first one."

Morgan sat and stared at the two mysterious figures who had suddenly appeared from nowhere this evening. Not only were they her siblings, they were her real, actual siblings, members of her family from the same time period, but she shared her parents' worry: if not Grima, what future had they come to prevent, and how long had they hid, denying Morgan the knowledge of their existence? The whole family paused and exchanged glances the shifted between evaluation, pride, and sheer love. The room fell completely silent, all conversation becoming unspoken.


	21. Import

Robin scratched his rather scraggly hair and sighed with exhaustion. Fatigue had already worn on his wife, who sat next to him and pretended to be awake by occasionally fluttering her eyelids in response to nothing in particular. He shook his head and soothed her by gently stroking the locks of her hair that spilled messily onto her pillow. The ordeal of today meant she had earned her rest. Meanwhile, the former tactician looked back up to his recently encountered son from the future, who in turn eyed him back sheepishly, throwing his glance to the ground when their eyes met.

"I've only just realized something," Robin declared aloud, a natural blitheness consuming his tone, "I suppose today's your birthday, isn't it, Steven?"

"True enough," the silver-haired young man nodded to his father, "but what of it?"

"Do you care to celebrate?" his father supposed.

He shifted his eyes back down, "Ah, that won't be necessary. Knowing of my minor successes at this point is celebration enough."

"Come, son," Robin chuckled, "I've only just gotten to meet you. Give me a reason to coddle you for a bit."

"I'm not much for such pageantry," refused the young man.

"Speak for yourself," his chestnut-haired sister muttered.

"I suppose I can empathize," Robin looked over to the boy, "such events weren't really my cup of tea, either."

"What are you on about, father?" Sylvia protested, "Steven told us stories about how you and mother would spent countless hours up in your room chatting about Naga-knows-what on your birthday."

Robin tugged at his collar, "Perhaps married life functions a bit differently from my past experience, dear. Keep in mind that you're still ten years off."

The girl accepted the statement blankly, then frowned abruptly, "I don't like it."

"Something wrong?" worried her father.

"It just doesn't feel right, all this. Having to talk to my father like a stranger, it's so bizarre," she pouted.

"What, precisely did you think would come of this?" Steven cocked an eyebrow at his younger sister.

"Not such formality and isolation, I can tell you that," replied the girl with frustration.

The former tactician's brow sank, "I'm sorry, dear. This is all a bit much, here at once, you know? But your father is here and he loves you very much."

"Will you kiss me and call me darling?" the girl flashed a row of white teeth over her ruby lips.

"If you so desire," he mused. She allowed herself into his arms as he held her and stroked her hair, pecking her on the forehead, "Your father is very pleased to see you, darling."

"Don't say it like that!" she protested.

His eyes widened, "What?"

"Darling," she repeated in a mocking a dull impression of him, "you gotta say it like: Dahling!"

"Dahling?" he repeated with a bemused smile.

"Better," she accepted, embracing him again before backing up, "we'll work on it." The girl nodded at her father, content with their progress, then shifted her view to her mother, "I'll bet mother can get it just right. Mom?"

"I-I'm not... what?" she yawned.

"Oh, never mind," the girl threw out her palm in distaste. She looked further down the side of the room until her eyes lit up again, "Ah!"

Her father jumped, "What is it?"

She rushed over and scooped the little redhead up in her arms, "Morgie-Worgie! Big sis was soooo worried about you, dear!"

Morgan observed flatly as her sister covered her face with kisses and coddling murmurs, "You guys sure do love your nicknames, huh?"

"Oh, hush," she dismissed.

"Did you just realize you missed me now?" Morgan supposed, reliving her sister's sudden reaction.

"No, I just thought I ought to be a little more enthusiastic than I was when I first showed up. I didn't mean to be stand-offish," Morgan's sister replied.

"Not at all," Morgan shrugged, "but... I'd like it if you could start telling me some things about myself."

Sylvia laughed, "I have to tell my own sister who she is... This is so strange... Well, you were always a charming little sort, dear, and your big sister was grooming you to become her successor in the, uh, 'industry,' ya see... But, one day, you came home all wily, holdin' this knife, you said 'Sorry, Sylvie, you're aces, but I can't stick around to the small time, dig? Gotta spread the ol' wings. But don't you stop bein' the swinginest cat this dame's ever laid eyes on, savvy?'"

"That is nothing even remotely reminiscent of what she said," Steven shook his head, "This isn't one of your shows. She said, 'I hate to leave you like this, but the call of gold is beckoning me elsewhere.' Or something to that effect. Nonsense." Steven stuck up his nose and grunted at the thought of his sister's words.

"What could I have meant by that?" Morgan rubbed her chin.

"I'm sure Steve already told you," Sylvia glared at her brother, "but you set out as a thief, and from what I hear, you were damn good at it."

"That doesn't excuse it," the silver-haired man growled.

Morgan pressed her fingers together, "Does that mean you resent me, Steven?"

He frowned and peered into her moist eyes, "Of course not, love. You're my baby sister, I could never resent you... I just found you a bit misguided, is all."

"My, what a tangled web we've woven," Robin whispered to his wife.

"Hey, doesn't this mean today's your birthday?" Anna indicated her son sleepily.

"Welcome to five minutes ago, honey," Robin kissed her cheek.

"Sh-Shuddup," she giggled, "Tell you what, the next time you give birth and don't get worn out, you just lemme know, and I'll admire your superiority for all eternity, O Master."

"I thank you for the recognition, mother," Steven bowed, "but you don't need to worry. I never had much time for celebrating my birthday on the road. It didn't seem to matter much, anyway. To do so now would only feel that much the stranger."

"Mmm," Anna mused, nuzzling into her husband's hand, which had drifted back over to the side of her head, brushing her cheek, "You really do take after your father. I'm reminded of a story..."

"Ohhhh!" Morgan leapt on the word, "Tell it, tell it, tell it!"

"Sweetie, let's make sure your brother and sister are on board," Anna cautioned.

"I wouldn't mind hearing," Steven commented, an uncharacteristic smile livening his face.

"All ears, mom," Sylvia crossed her legs and sat on the floor at her mother's side and father's feet.

"All right, just don't get mad if I get sleepy," she yawned, "now, let's see..."

* * *

Anna held her breath. She had been lying in wait this long, another moment spoiling the kill would be enough to ruin her whole week, if not more. She waited, albeit preparedly, as she drifted closer to her target. She pushed through the entrance softly and felt relief wash over her: no noise. Slowly, with almost agonizing delicacy, she took one step forward, then another, and another, slowly driving right up to the victim, and...

"SURPRISE!" she shouted in his ear.

He doubled over in his chair with a yelp. Bumping his head off the desk, he collapsed to the floor with a wash of panic until he lifted his already bruised head, "Oh for... Anna, what are you trying to do, kill me?"

She couldn't be reached for an answer, sputtering and rolling on the floor in positively delighted laughter. She clutched her chest to signal that she could barely breathe as her shut eyes teared and her stomach heaved.

"Hilarious," Robin rolled his eyes, "could you go? I've kind of got lives on the line."

"W-wait..." she managed between giggles, "I've got... I've got something for you. I'm sorry..." Anna continued to slow herself down until air had refilled her lungs and she felt she could speak again. With a final gasp, she began, "I'm sorry, but I couldn't pass up the chance. Here, I got you a little something."

She handed him a small, palm-sized box that was red like her hair and closed with a shimmering yellow ribbon. "Anna, what's this?" he took it in surprise, balancing the tiny wrapping in his hand. He retrieved the item, "Er, a seed?"

"Not just a seed, dummy," she chided him, "It's a super-rare item, spread only by the growth of the Mila Tree. They call it a 'Seed of Trust.'"

"And what's that about?" he stared at the tiny brown piece of plant matter.

"You're suppose to take it, and break it in half like... this," there came a snapping noise as the merchant split the object vertically, "and have each person down one half." Anna dropped the item into her mouth and crunched it quickly, then turned to watch as the tactician bit into it tenuously.

"Curious," he observed, swallowing, "I've never known a legume to taste sweet all on its own."

"That means it's working," she grinned, "It's supposed to bring pairs of people closer together, fostering the bonds of trust, and... yadda yadda."

"You want to be closer to me?" the tactician's brow jumped up.

"Sure. We're friends, right? I want us to be as close as can be," she smiled more broadly.

"I see," he nodded in affirmation, "but, it's not a habit of yours to give away such rare items for free, even if you do benefit in some way. What's the catch?"

She put a hand over her chest, "No catch. Can't I just do something nice for you on your birthday?"

"Birthday?" he repeated, "Oh, right, that's today. Well, thanks, all he same."

"Do you mean to tell me you forgot your own birthday?" Anna jumped.

"I guess, what with all my work," he scratched his neck, "Now, Chrom said that this passage is blocked by boulders..."

"Hey! Pay attention!" Anna commanded, "You can't just spend your birthday cooped up in here like this!"

"Why not?" Robin shrugged, "It's how I spend most other days."

"But your birthday's special!" Anna insisted.

"Oh," the tactician barely acknowledged her, "Did you have something in mind?"

"Maybe," she muttered, then pulled at the sides of the tactician's face, "And would it kill you to smile for a bit?"

"There'll be time for smiling when work is done," came the axiom from the tactician.

The merchant woman dropped her head, "I don't get you. Don't you wanna go have fun?"

"People will die if I'm not on point," he told himself.

"I feel like we've had this conversation about a dozen times now," Anna put the back of her palm to her forehead.

Robin sighed, "And yet you always seem to think you can sway me."

"Don't act as though you don't enjoy it," she folded her arms.

"Is there something you want or not, Anna?" the tactician turned to face her.

"I want you to get outside of this place and enjoy your life," she smiled softly despite her critical tone.

"I appreciate it, Anna, but, please," he let his eyes finish his sentence before returning to work.

She folded her arms and scowled, "So you mean to tell me you'd rather sit here and do this then go enjoy yourself?"

"Not that I would rather," he sighed in exasperation, "but that I don't have a choice. Anyway, there's nothing to celebrate."

That caught her attention, "What do you mean 'nothing to celebrate?'"

"It means nothing, like I said," he provided frustratedly.

Latching onto the statement, Anna nodded subtly to herself, the pursed her lips as she murmured, wounded, "I guess I'll just go, then."

"Thank you," he practically snarled.

As Anna pushed through the tent flap, Sumia brushed past her, holding the sides of her face. "P-Pardon me," she murmured.

"Sumia?" Anna realized, "Is something the matter?"

"I just want a word with Robin," she didn't bother to look back.

Anna waited as the girl meandered into the tent. "Oh, Sumia," Anna heard he tactician call out, "Back again?"

"Oh, it's a bad one today, Robin..." the pegasus knight's voice quivered.

Anna felt a chill pass over her as she heard Robin respond calmly, in so measured a tone he might have been wearing a monocle and sitting before a fireplace, "All right. Let's hear it, then."

She sniffled a managed a terse sound of accedence, "See, I wanted to help Frederick maintain the stables, but I set his horse free by accident, and she's been lost ever since. Feeling like a useless lout, I thought I might make it up to him by making a new pair of horseshoes... but I accidentally dropped his lance into the forge when I tripped. Then, I went to Maribelle to see if she could brew up some special tea... before she shoved me out the door when I accidentally broke her best china. With nowhere else to turn, I met up with Gaius to see if I could at least grease him for some sweets, but then... oh, I can't say it!"

"Go on, Sumia," he encouraged, "it's the only way you'll feel better."

"I... mistook a pot of honey for a stool while sitting down, and ended up getting it all over my rear and the entire floor of his tent..." Sumia sniffled again and brushed the tears from her eyes, "I'm so completely helpless!"

Anna heard Robin clear his throat and stand, pushing his chair in, "There, there. You can't get so down on yourself, Sumia, you just have to keep working at things."

"But I mess up everything I try!" she complained.

"The most skilled archer started off missing every shot," Anna heard the tactician say in a most touting tone of voice.

"I... guess that makes sense," Sumia still sounded miserable.

There was a sound of rustling for a moment, then the tactician stopped again, "Take this and clean up, all right? I'll set things straight so you can get right back on that horse, okay?"

"You mean pegasus," she giggled weakly.

"Right," he chuckled in reply, "Now..."

Anna ducked away from the tent and watched the tactician walk out. He paused a moment and sighed, fixing his collar, then headed out. She followed him as he made his way to Frederick's tent: "Frederick. Sumia told me about her mishap."

"I didn't mean to be so callous," the knight apologized, opening the tent flap at the tactician's call, "but she did inconvenience me greatly. Forgive me, I got carried away."

"It's no trouble, Frederick, I just want it resolved." The tactician fished into his pocket and pulled out a sack of coins, "Take these to Anna and tell her I sent you. She'll have a new lance for you in no time, I'm sure."

"Why, thank you, Robin," accepted a surprised Frederick, not realizing that Robin was already hurrying toward his next destination. In such a short span of time, Anna needed to employ all her stealth skills to avoid detection by two of the most eagle-eyed of the Shepherds. She continued to watch from some distance as the tactician called next for Maribelle.

"I'm a bit busy right now, Robin," she grunted through gritted teeth. Anna could tell it was all the noblewoman could do to not simply scream.

He nodded, "I know, so I'll keep this brief." As before, Robin produced a small sack that jingled as he handed it over, "This should cover a new set of china. See if Anna has anything in."

"That is... kind of you," Maribelle mirrored Frederick, "Well, don't just leave! Say 'you're welcome,' at least!"

"You're welcome," he called, hastening away.

Anna sidled up to the thief's tent as Robin drew near, pulling open the flat. Anna peaked in as he looked ahead, and the both of their brows rose as they spotted Gaius licking the ground in his tent.

He stood immediately, "W-What? Don't judge me. You think I could let all this go to waste?"

"I... It doesn't matter," Robin put his palm over his face a moment, "Is three hundred gold enough for a new pot of honey?"

"Make it five and you've got a deal," smirked the thief.

"Fine," Robin sighed, emptying his wallet once more, "that had better be some damn good honey."

"Oh, it will be, Bubbles," Gaius rubbed his palms together and licked his lips lasciviously. The matter resolved, Robin began a slow walk to his tent.

Until Chrom interrupted him, "Robin, are you busy?"

"Not particularly," he shrugged.

"Great," Chrom breathed, "come with me, I need your opinion on a few matters." Robin obeyed, following the prince. Meanwhile, Anna watched him pass and nodded, slowly pulling together a plan.

* * *

Robin pushed open the flaps of his tent, exhaling. He pulled out his chair, lamenting the noise as it creaked along the ground and threw himself into it, breaking open the book he had been examining earlier. The flanking maneuver used in this battle might be the key to-

"SURPRISE!" Robin fell out of his chair again. He picked himself up and whirled around to find all the Shepherds gathered at the entrance to his tent.

"Robin! Why didn't you tell us it was your birthday, silly?" scolded Lissa.

"I... um, thank you all, but this is unnecessary..." he coughed.

"Don't be so modest," Chrom insisted.

"We owe you a lot," Cordelia chimed in.

"A most noble of men deserves a soirée to match," Virion nodded.

"I oughta kick your butt for tryin' to be so humble," Sully chided through a toothy grin.

"Your services to the Halidom are, at least, comparable to mine at this point. I believe you deserve a reward," declared Frederick, neutral, but with a pleasant smile on his face.

"If it means food for me, I'm on board," Stahl chuckled aloud.

"I can make this day very special for you... verrrry special," Tharja giggled to herself.

"We're so pleased to have you!" lauded Sumia.

"Ordinarily, I'd be opposed to such decadent displays," Lon'qu grunted, "but I must agree that we would be much worse off without your careful direction."

"Even the Vaike's gotta give credit where it's due: you're at least on par with my awesome, Robin," Vaike thumbed at himself.

"With you on our side, I feel ten feet tall," Ricken grinned, "We really need to thank you."

"Were it not for your altogether most dutiful endeavors, the probability of our ultimate success would, at present, be greatly diminished. I feel a celebration is the proper response to your strengthening our statistical significance," Miriel bowed.

"I'm happy for you, too, and glad that you at least try to notice me. Not that you will now," Kellam muttered.

"Yours is a blessed soul, Robin. I believe Naga sends her compliments for your works today," commented Libra.

"If you hadn't told him to hold off, ol' Blue probably would've stuck me like a pig, so I guess I owe you a little gratitude," begrudged Gaius, "Don't get used to it."

"Among man-spawn, you are... abnormal. Your heart is tantamount to that of a taguel, and for that, I wish to share in this celebration," Panne noted, decidedly unsure of what was happening.

"I... I'm not used to it, but... I could just dance for joy if it was proper thanks to you, Robin," Olivia blushed.

"I'm in awe o' both you an' Chrom! If I was half as smart as you, I coulda been runnin' my village," Donnel cheered, "You needs a little shindig to brighten your spirits, all right?"

"Is unfitting for tactician to be like sack full of sad!" guffawed Gregor with a cough.

"Why didn't you tell us, Robin? Parrrrrty!" Nowi cheered, dancing amid the group.

"I've offered to make refreshments..." Maribelle muttered, "Do you feel honored yet?"

Robin stood back and looked over the amalgam of his allies, a bit of moisture slowly filling his eyes as they fell to his boots, "All of you... thank you. This is..."

"Unexpected?" chirped a young woman, a smirk as wide as the day is long painted on her face, "That's kinda the point of a 'surprise' party."

"Anna," he looked to her, "you did this."

"Well, I couldn't very well leave you to mope in the dark by yourself, could I?" she laughed.

"Anna..." he repeated distantly, "You didn't have to..."

"Aw, c'mon," she smiled, "time you got some recognition around here, isn't it?"

"As much as I appreciate it," he laughed, composing himself, "you missed one simple point."

"Huh?" she frowned, touching her finger to her chin. What could that be? "What are you talking about?"

"The only person I really sought recognition from gave it to me already," he smiled.

"Happy birthday, Robin," she hugged him, "You'll get only the best on my coin."

"I already have," he pulled her in tighter, tears staining her sleeve.

* * *

"Can you say 'sappy?'" Sylvia giggled into her palm.

"Say what you will," Anna yawned broadly once more, "I thought it was pretty good, if I do say so myself."

"It still resonates with me," her husband laughed.

"Hey, so tell me, Mr. Tactician," she ordered, "Would you have done all that stuff for me? Taken care of me, listened to my complaints, helped me, bought me a new honey pot?"

"You know I do all those things, Anna," he nodded, "but... I'd rather not have any hypothetical conversations about your honey pot in front of the children."

"Oh, shut up," she giggled, slapping his thigh.

"You," he paused to lean over and kiss her, "look exhausted. We should all try to get some rest."

"Fair enough. It's been a busy day," Steven rubbed his neck.

"Hey, father, can I sleep with Sylvia and Steven?" Morgan requested, folding her hands together in pleading.

"As long as they're all right with it," he nodded. The other children did the same and the small redhead scrambled over to them excitedly.

"Finally, all a family," she murmured, settling down and immediately nestling into her surprised older brother's breast. He smiled with amusement and said nothing. Sylvia wrapped around the other side of her sister and held her close.

"Can you make some room?" asked Robin, looking down at his wife.

"Can't hear you, to busy being asleep five minutes ago," she mocked without opening her eyes. She imitated loud snoring.

"All right, twist my arm," the former tactician crawled on top of his wife.

"Oof," she complained, "If you're gonna do that, at least let me get on top."

"Children are still here," Morgan called with disturbance in her voice. Her parents laughed again.

* * *

The boy in the salmon colored garb sat in the sill of open window, his shawl ebbing and flowing with the breeze. The pale light of the moon shone on his back as he looked over his family, all gathered before him, contented smiles plastered on the faces of every one. He closed his eyes, sighing internally, wondering why it could never be this way for him. He lowered himself gingerly into the room and set his feet silently on the floor, looking to each side to ensure he hadn't already risked discovery. Seeing no issues, he stepped carefully over the sleeping bodies into their midst to reach her, the little redhead. She was cuddled in between them, sighing gently in her sleeping breath. So rhythmic. So charming. So delightful. So agonizingly irritating. He shook his head; those thoughts had to be left in the past. This was the day he would begin to atone. He looked back, finding the moon folding into the oncoming clouds, swallowing it into the puce of dawn. Tomorrow would be the day he would begin to atone. He stole another glance at the small figure. She was still smiling. Looking to each side once more to cover his bases, the boy lowered himself to almost level with her head and pecked her forehead, stroking a bit of her maroon locks, "I'm sorry, Morgan. I'll always be sorry."


	22. Gratuity

Anna stared meekly, eyes only barely popping up from behind the china veil that covered her nose. She slurped at a moderate volume to keep up the pretense while avoiding drawing attention.

"...and so I thought I'd just... you know, bake you a little pie," declared the pegasus knight, rubbing her shoulder.

Anna smiled and almost giggled, before becoming aware once more of the liquid in front of her, forcing her to stifle a choking sputter.

"Ah, thank you, Sumia. That's kind of you," the prince stroked his hair apart.

The girl hazarded, "Do you suppose you might like to..." Too late, the prince had already vacated the mess tent.

"Poor girl," Anna murmured to herself.

"Indeed," assented a voice that surprised her, "Chrom should be more grateful. Maybe I'll have a talk with him."

"Most people start with 'hi,'" Anna leered at the young man as he flopped down across from her, causing the bench to creak.

"Hi," he shot back mockingly, "Yes, Chrom needs to be more appreciative. He's a good captain, but he seems to lose track of other things, obsessing over leadership."

"No wonder you two are such good buddies," the redhead snarked.

"How's that?" Robin turned his head.

"Nothing, nothing," she dismissed, "but it's more than just forgetting the 'thank you,' you know."

"No, I'm afraid I don't," Robin admitted, scratching his head.

Anna stopped and screwed her face up, "Wha... You don't?"

"Chrom was ungrateful for the pie. What else is there?" Robin began.

"You honestly couldn't tell what Sumia was getting at?" Anna raised an eyebrow and chuckled.

"Obviously not, and we're not making a lot of progress with you asking the same questions over and over, so let's move on," pushed the tactician with irritation.

"She's smitten with him, Robin, can't you see? Little Sumia's got a crush," Anna exposed, waving her arm and letting her eyes sparkle in the reverie of romance.

"A... 'crush?'" Robin repeated, turning his face up.

"I don't know how to put it any plainer, smart guy," she breathed, taking another sip of her tea.

"You mean she... er, wants to become intimate with him?" Robin shifted his eyes.

Anna shook her head and smirked, "That's about the most unattractive way I've ever heard love described."

"Oh, 'love,'" noted the tactician, a frown immediately coming to his face.

"Why do you say it like I just spat it on you?" Anna giggled, splaying her hand on the table as a challenge.

Robin shook his head, reviled, "Don't get me started. That damned word has shown up in nearly every book I've read, and still I've yet to find a satisfactory definition for it."

"'Defintion?' It's not a medical condition, tactician-boy," laughed the merchant.

"So, then, what is it?" he demanded, still pouting.

Anna shrugged, "That's a loaded question."

"Great," he deadpanned, "thanks for all your help."

"Oh, spare me the tantrum, you big baby," she slapped his back with her free hand, "I just don't know how to put it to words. It's something you have to feel, you know?"

"Well, how does one know when they've felt it?" the tactician pressed.

"Oh, hells, Robin, do I have to explain everything?" she rolled her eyes.

"Do you know?" Robin let his eyes sink beneath his brow.

"H-Hey, don't look at me like that!" her eyes widened, "What are you insinuating?"

"I'm just wondering to what degree you empathize with young Sumia," Robin looked away, shade obscuring his face.

"I'm not sure I'm in love with your tone," Anna shoved the tactician.

"Forget it," he sighed, "anyway, if Sumia loves Chrom, why doesn't she just say as much and... you know, take him?"

"Ew, stop doing that," the merchant cringed.

"Doing what?" he shrugged.

"Turning two people into... I don't know, animals? Sex objects? Whatever weird perception is making you talk about them like a naturalistic study," Anna shuddered, "It's really grossing me out."

"Fine," Robin grunted with fatigue, "but why can't Sumia just... er, act on her, uh, feelings and tell Chrom?"

Anna sighed and wiped her face, "I dunno... you have to test the waters sometimes. If a girl falls head-over-heels and tells a guy, only to find out he's not interested, she'll probably walk away with a broken heart, and no one wants that."

"I'll say," the tactician's eyes bulged, "'Head-over-heels?' 'Broken heart?' Gods, this 'love' business is a lot more dangerous than I thought..."

"Metaphors, you precious little fool," she ruffled his hair.

"Quit that!" he scolded, knocking her hand away, "And don't patronize me, this is all new."

"Aw, is da widdle tactician upsets 'cause he doesn't know evwyfing?" the merchant pursed her lips and leaned into him.

"I hate you," he lowered his brow at her.

"You love me," she tapped on his nose. He snapped his teeth playfully as she drew her finger away.

"Where were we?" he exhaled, "Ah, right, so Sumia can't just talk to Chrom because she has to see how he feels... how can she do that?"

"Very carefully," Anna surmised, hanging on the syllable, "She just has to watch for signs."

"Signs? What signs?" Robin's head picked up.

"It varies... body language, for one," Anna rested her finger on her chin.

"You mean you can tell how someone's feeling just by watching how they behave?" the tactician cocked an eyebrow.

"Well, that's one way," Anna suggested, "Bodies can tell you a lot."

"What does my body tell you?" Robin gestured to himself.

"Gods' sakes, Robin," Anna chided, "lower your voice. What will people think, hearing you ask questions like that?"

"I don't follow," he remarked, muddled.

"Never mind," she sighed, "yes, body language helps, but sometimes the woman just waits for the man to approach her."

"So what might he say?" Robin stole Anna's cup and downed a swig from it. She paused to glare at him and he slid the tea back over.

"How should I know? Maybe 'Hi, how are you, beautiful? Would you like to have dinner with me?" the merchant guessed.

"I'm confused," Robin announced, "I thought the point was to find mutual love. What's dinner got to do with it?"

"Oh, Naga save me," Anna rubbed her eyes, "It's just... there needs to be buildup. Sometimes you need to take these things slow to ensure it's really love."

"How foolish," Robin folded his arms, "would that I were in love, I would simply make my feelings known and be done with it, facing whatever may follow."

"Easy for you to say," Anna stared up at him. Robin seemed to have lost his train of thought, his muddy brown eyes sinking in pensiveness before drawing back up to join with the rubies that sparkled gently in the eyes of the woman opposite him. They sat in silence, exchanging this confused glare for over a minute, wherein time seemed to stand still, until Stahl laid his hand over the table.

"Hey guys, whacha talking about?" the verdant cavalier grinned.

"Anna was telling me about her approach to love," Robin declared thoughtlessly, easing back. Stahl glanced over at the merchant, a question hanging on his lips.

"Y-You idiot!" Anna scolded, "Quit saying things like that!"

"Agh!" Robin jumped, "I didn't mean it like that! I was just... I needed an answer to a question, and Anna was talking me through it, that's all."

"Uh-huh," Stahl nodded, not lowering his eyebrows. The cavalier lifted his tray of food and walked out.

"Sorry," Robin scratched his neck.

"Whatever," she folded her arms, "If there have to be rumors, at least they can be... acceptable."

"Huh?" the tactician stuttered.

"Uh, nothing," Anna dismissed, "I gotta run."

"Will you still drop by tonight?" Robin supposed.

She smiled, "You'll never know... have to keep up the mystique, eh?" Anna pressed her index finger to her chin and winked at the young man, "Take care, tactician-boy."

"Bye," he waved her off tersely, "I... I... um... Never mind."

"What?" she hung at the entrance.

"Oh, never mind," he dismissed, "We'll just... take things slow."

* * *

Morgan giggled as she plodded along in the grass behind her father, "You have to stop being so cute, daddy, or I might just lose mind."

"Speak for yourself," Sylvia batted her eyes dully, pantomiming her head rising from a pillow, "I would have expected a little more showmanship from my own father."

"You did seem a tad... unprepared," Steven remarked, index finger and thumb stroking down the sides of his chin.

"Everybody's a critic," Robin lamented, helping his wife along.

"Mind you father's feelings, kids. He's sensitive," Anna pursed her lips and stroked her husband's chin facetiously.

He cleared his throat, "We're home." Steven and Sylvia looked over the small manor carefully. Steven had seen it once before, but it seemed much smaller now, now that it was his father's home, and not the final refuge of a legend on the precipice of his final days. Sylvia was unimpressed with the building's modesty and plain façade, however, she admitted there was something of a charm to the locale, green and gold ribbons stretching across the horizon in every conceivable direction. The audience was good, working with the lackluster performer, she decided.

"Good to be back," Anna breathed with relief as her husband pushed them through the door. Robin nodded with a cautious smile.

"Now," declared the former tactician, rubbing his neck, "we're going to have to figure out a sleeping situation, because this house only has two bedrooms, and, hate to say it, but I'm not giving mine up. Plus, your mother needs a comfortable place to sleep, given what she's been through."

"Oh," the little redhead piped up, "Sylvia and Steven can sleep in my bed, I don't care. I'll just lay on the floor."

"No offense to you, my dear," Sylvia glanced down at her younger sister, "but I'd much rather share a bed with you than with... er, him."

"I'm not eager to be in bed with my sister either," Steven sneered, "Keep the bed, love."

"Some spartan children we raised in the future," Robin whispered to his wife. She chuckled into her palm.

"Will you all stay up in my room and tell me more about us, at least?" the little redhead implored.

"Of course," they assented almost simultaneously.

"Woohoo!" Morgan pumped her fists in the air as she cheered, "Sibling bonding time! Let's go!" She took her brother and sister by the wrists and dragged them along up the staircase to her room, the both of them staring at her in muddled amusement.

"And I think someone else should lay down," Robin put a hand over his wife's. The redheaded merchant nodded tiredly, allowing herself to be led to the second floor.

* * *

"I hope you don't get to thinking I'm past my prime," Anna murmured, staring at the ceiling from atop the bed.

"What?" her husband produced a confused laugh.

"I won't be tired like this forever, you know? Gimme a couple days and I'll be back in the old habit," she declared with confidence.

"Anna, I know," he shrugged, "I never thought any less of you. I wasn't very witty when Grima was breathing down our necks."

"No, but you were strong when you were breathing down his. Which was also yours, which sort of confuses that whole metaphor," Anna paused and put her finger to her chin. "A-Anyway, the point is, I'm not up against impossible odds, like you were. This is something every woman-well, most every woman-goes through. I'm just telling you I can make it, too."

"I never doubted it, honey," he kissed her forehead.

"We'll be back to trading jokes before long, I promise," she continued, yawning and draping her arms over his chest.

"When did we stop?" he pet her in return.

"Hey, hey," Anna perked up, "Henry told me this one, said it's been passing around Plegian military personnel: 'What's the difference between a cracked statue to honor Grima and the Ylissean tactician?'"

"No," Robin's eyes widened, "the Plegian military has a joke about me? I'm honored. Well, go on, what's the difference?"

"'One's a decrepit bulwark of a dying system with a stone face, and the other's a statue,'" Anna laughed as she repeated.

Robin howled, too, "That's great. I wouldn't be surprised if I start hearing that everywhere." Anna smiled and reclined in her position. "Hey, what do you get when you murder an Anna?" Robin began.

She smirked devilishly, "What?"

"A fair price, for once," the former tactician grinned.

"Boo," Anna gave him a thumbs-down.

"You wanna know why I'm better than any of your customers?" he couldn't bring himself to stop now.

"Why?"

"Because I enjoy it when you screw me," he flashed his teeth.

"Crass," she shoved his face, "and too easy. You're not the first one to make that joke. Not by a long shot."

"Cut me some slack," he snuggled next to her cheek, "I haven't had a lot of time for new material."

"Don't further stereotypes, either. Do you know how most people think we get our money?" she winked.

"No, how?" he played along.

"Robin."

The former tactician paused, "Oh, I have free reign to boo that one."

"Hush, you," she commanded, holding his lips shut with her palm, "Now, who's got a signature style of clothing and is married to the most beautiful woman in the world?"

"Chrom?" the former tactician supposed, glancing away.

"Jerk," she slapped him. He turned his cheek with a knowing smile.

"Is this what 'love' is?" he asked absently, kissing her.

"You should know by now," she surmised.

"Yeah, I was only teasing. I could write a book on love myself at this point," he stroked his chest proudly.

"Sure thing, lover-boy," the merchant mused. Anna hiked her leg up and brought it over her husband, grabbing his flank with a vice grip from her other arm. She pulled him over to whisper, "Guess who's got cold feet and misses being intimate with her husband."

"Sumia? Frederick is rather celibate..." he looked off again. He turned his head back down to his wife and grinned once more. She pulled him over further and met him with a kiss.

* * *

Robin awoke feeling a sensation upon his neck. The time he had spent with Anna first convinced him that this sensation was merely her beautiful pale face nuzzling into the spot where she was most comfortable, however, the sensation did not move to the docile rhythm of breath, and was moreover too cold to be any living being. Despite fatigue, Robin forced his eyes open to find a steel tip gleaming at his throat, painted cobalt by the evening light.

"I... need to have a word with you," declared a figure whose face extended beyond the darkness from which the tip pointed.

"Are you the remaining child, then? Sylvia's twin?" Robin supposed, evaluating the youth's face.

"I might be," he evaded, "But I wanna ask you something first."

"Go on," the former tactician sighed and shrugged.

"How do you feel about... death?" Robin felt pressure ease off of the steel tip.

"I'm... against it?" Robin cocked an eyebrow.

"Don't be clever with me," growled the figure, "Just answer me this: can one show compassion for one's foes? What does it mean to take a life in war?"

"I see," Robin nodded, "A very philosophical question. I recall I once discussed this with my wife... It was just after..."

* * *

Anna stared into the open tent breathlessly as a quick gust of wind pushed it about. She allowed herself in and loomed over the desk, hoping to find... she wasn't sure. Perhaps a sign, of some sort? Regardless, she looked it over. If not for the circumstance, the notes might have been downright comical, featuring an amusing juxtaposition of personal reminders to reprimand Henry for destructive behavior and structured injury reports. The merchant lifted her head, unaware that her brow creased with concern as she took a few steps back. She knew only one other source to call upon before she would become truly fearful. Her boots pounded with fever, as did her heart, as she hastily made her way to the prince's tent, her gaze upon it completely undistracted. "Chrom," she announced her presence, shoving the flap open.

The prince had been staring at Falchion from atop his bedroll, "Anna. What is it?"

"Have you seen Robin?" she hoped.

"Is he not at camp?" Chrom frowned, "We were having something of a discussion earlier. He seemed a touch upset, but he must have been even more so than he let on. I'm willing to bet I know where he is."

Anna nodded and listened to the prince as he relayed the synopsis of his conversation with their tactician. It only took a few moments for Anna to arrive at the same conclusion Chrom had about Robin's whereabouts, and shorter time still for her to make her way out to said location.

She found him precisely where she had expected to. Standing a few yards down along the battlefield was a young man, his cloak blowing mournfully in the wind, and his head bent as if undergoing a coronation as he stood. "You've got a lot of nerve, worrying me like that," the merchant reported with a disaffected sneer.

"Sorry," he wasn't listening. He made no noise as he looked upon a body at his feet. The man's chest was mangled, twisted in an ungodly, unnatural manner, and dried blood pooled in the dirt before him, highlighting the tension in his features and the bulging of his eyes that certified his death had been filled with suffering to the last moment.

"I know it can be hard to get used to," the redhead comforted, putting a hand to his back, "Killing is never easy."

"No, it isn't," he acceded uselessly, not moving his eyes.

She pressed on, "You have to be strong. No one wants to take a life, but the willingness to do so is proof of your determination. Honor the man's sacrifice and move on. It's all you can do."

"You speak as though you've been through it many times before," the tactician murmured.

"I don't hold a sword for nothing," the merchant replied quickly, putting a hand on the hilt of her blade.

"Perhaps I'm weak. Too sentimental," the tactician grunted, "but it gives me pause, now, to think about all the death I've caused."

"As well it should," Anna nodded with reassurance, "but the idea is pause, not paralysis."

"Again, your response is logical," Robin admitted, "and yet, logic fails me at this moment."

"You can pity your opponent, Robin," the merchant affirmed, "but you cannot empathize with him. You cannot become him. This is war, and war requires conviction. Sometimes cold steel is the only way to turn a man's heart."

"You speak of taking lives purely with one's own hands," Robin choked, "I have distanced myself from such troubles. So far removed am I from my atrocities I can now simply sign men to their deaths. One stroke of the pen, one hand gesture, and a man lies dead. That sort of thing... That power... haunts me, Anna."

The redhead frowned sympathetically, "You can't fault yourself. Death is a reality of this war of necessity."

"And that's another thing," he laughed bitterly, "Is this war necessary? Not a day goes by I don't wake up and wonder if there wasn't just one other thing I might have done to bring this damnable conflict to an end before it began."

"You'll torture yourself to death with such thoughts. It's impossible to know these things," Anna reasoned, "All we can know is that you have to keep fighting now to bring it to an end."

"It's the greatest irony of my position," he proposed, "I must kill and draw blood to bring about peace and safety... at least, I am led to believe I must do as much."

"Robin..." Anna had difficulty finding any further words to contribute.

"Forgive me," a smile played upon his lips, concerning the merchant, "I don't sound much like myself, I suppose."

She shook her head, "Better to let these feelings out." Anna paised and breathed into a smile, "I almost never see you express your emotions like this. I worry the stress will kill you."

Robin looked up and glanced upon the redhead for only the briefest of moments before his countenance shifted in some perceptible manner. He cast his face back down upon the ground, enraptured by it, then decided there was nothing to do for it and walked off, obviously not having been as revitalized as Anna had hoped. She, too, turned, but was caught by the sight of the man again. There was something about him that seemed different, some detail that was out of place. She drew closer to the cadaver and recognized instantly the reason for the tactician's existential crisis: a child, playful smile still stretching his cheeks, had spilled his blood onto the armor of the man, whose bulging eyes now seemed wet as well.

* * *

Anna stared with another frown into the once more empty tent. No breeze bristled the structure on this occasion, however, and yet the absence of animation made the sight somehow more disconcerting. The redheaded merchant immediately jumped to her source in this instance, and this time found him far more relaxed, smiling and chatting with the dancer Olivia.

"Have you seen..."

"Robin?" Chrom nodded, "He's still down in the village."

"He was doing well when last I saw him," the dancer commented.

Anna wondered what, precisely, that meant, but had no time as she hastened to the small village the Shepherds had defended earlier in the day. She looked along stretches of road, up and down alleyways in search of the absentee tactician, but could find him nowhere. Presently, she was alerted by the sound of a child's laughter, and, having no other plans, followed it. A few feet of travel found the merchant rooted to the ground and a smile plastered onto her face. A young man stood before a collected group of children, sitting, rocking to and fro with glittering in their eyes, observing the man as attendees to a priest delivering a sermon.

"So, remember, playing war is fun, but you ought to hope that playing is as far as you ever go," he instructed.

"But I wanna protect people, and be a warrior, like my dad!" asserted a dark-haired boy.

"You can protect people without starting a war, can't you?" posed the tactician. The child was forced to nod tenuously in agreement.

"But what if bad guys start a war first?" a girl with a ponytail raised her hand.

"That's when things get tough," Robin nodded sagely, "You have to fight, of course, but you want to end that war as soon as possible. Often times, that means you have to be willing to forgive, which, I freely admit, may not always be the smartest move."

"But how can you be forgiving to someone who doesn't want peace?" suggested a boy with cropped green hair.

Robin laughed, "My, but you're some smart children. Even I can't answer all these questions. Some things, you'll find, you must simply make a judgment in the moment, and come to terms with it for yourself." The children whispered among themselves, apparently impressed by his rhetoric.

"Can we play some more?" complained a boy's voice. Several "yeahs" resounded through the crowd. Before Robin could wave his hand and allow the children their time to play, one hopped onto his back.

"Argh!" yelled the boy, clutching the purplish fabric tightly, "Take that, you Fell Beast!"

Robin whipped around and smiled, "You cannot best me, child of Naga!"

The others joined, piling onto the young man, screaming their prayers and damnations of him as they launched their attack. Anna sauntered forward as the tactician's head popped out from beneath the swarming pile of children. "Would you excuse me a minute, kids?" asked Robin. They began to sit up out of his way.

"Don't let me disturb your game," she grinned.

"Not at all," he dusted himself off.

"It's good to see you feeling better, Robin," she nodded earnestly at him.

"If I can't alter the past..." he concluded mistily, looking back to the onlooking children, "mayhap there's some hope in the future."

"You're a spirited man, Robin," she laughed to herself. A small girl tugged at the merchant's pant leg, causing her to look down.

"What's your name?" the girl begged with big eyes.

"Anna," she bowed.

"Anna and Robin sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!" the girl worked up a chant, the others falling in and leering at the pair.

Anna stood over the young man, still battling the occasional toddler, but meeting her gaze. "No way," she shoved his face, "Cooties. Gross."

* * *

"That didn't answer much for me," complained the young man at the foot of Robin's bed.

"True, but it did lower your guard," the former tactician smirked. Anna thrust her leg out and knocked the youth to the floor, causing him to grunt in pain. "Sorry, son," Robin declared in rising from the bed, "Next time, you'd be wise not to point a weapon to my throat."

"Damn," he lamented, "I was careless."

Robin pulled the boy in the salmon ensemble to his feet and wagged his finger at him, "Go lay downstairs. We'll have a real talk when we wake up tomorrow morning."

"What makes you think I'll do that?" snarled the boy.

Robin shoved him out the door to the bedroom, "Good night, Leo."

The boy sighed, shrugging his shoulders, and slowly traipsed down the stairs.


	23. Fiscal

Anna stood with a muddled expression on her face as she held the tiny bundle in her arms, bouncing him up and down. "Oh, hush, dear," she whispered to her son. The child ignored her and continued to cry, the sound reverberating off the walls and flooding Anna's ears, causing her to wipe her face and attempt, in vain, to straighten her ragged hair.

"You seem like you could use this," Robin introduced himself, stepping behind his wife and carefully drawing her hair back, tying it together with the small, gray hair tie she always left lying on the drawer at her side of the bed.

"Better," she breathed as he let go, "Now, any solutions to problem number two?" The redhead gazed skeptically down at the babe.

"Maybe he's just hungry," Robin shrugged, "It has been at least six hours since he ate last."

"Ohmygods!" Anna leapt, "You're right! Duh! I'm an _awful_ mom!"

He patted her back calmly, "Not so. Not at all. That was just a guess."

"Poor baby," she ignored him, holding the little bundle tightly, "You're hungry, huh? Well, mommy can take care of that, lemme just..." Anna put a hand to her chest, then cocked her head to one side as she was reminded of her husband's presence. "Um... you mind?" she nodded at him.

He looked aside, "What?" The merchant used her eyes to indicate first her own chest and then the staircase. "Really?" Robin's face fell.

"Just, do it for my sake, okay? This is a little weird for me, too," she huffed, cradling the baby away from him. He sighed and began to walk down the stairs.

Baby Steven's sudden outburst had whipped the entire family awake, though the sun had yet to rise over the blurred horizon, and so Robin was unsurprised to hear a degree of clamor and conversation beating about as he trod down the stairs. His late-night guest had, undoubtedly, contributed to the need for words. He found the young man standing, perhaps the ghost of a smile on his face and a flicker of warmth in his sandy eyes.

"Leo, you lout, you left me all alone," his twin sister chided, slapping him lightly in the stomach.

"My arse. It was you done left me, Sylvie," he coughed back.

"Gods," Steven shuddered, "'It was you who left me, Sylvia.' Show some decorum in the house of your own father."

The young man frowned ironically at his older brother. Viewing him outside the shadows, Robin observed that his midnight assailant looked decidedly cheerier when his ruddy auburn hair was visible. And when he wasn't pointing a knife at his throat, of course. "Well, making fast friends, are we?" Robin smirked, "You're singing a much different tune than you were last evening."

"Father..." the young man hesitated, his eyes widening.

"Speak of the devil and he shall appear," Steven laughed, "Good morrow to you, father." The former tactician nodded in his direction.

Another set of footsteps plodded clumsily down the staircase. A groan, followed by a squeak introduced the redheaded girl as her mouth shut and her eyes opened back up, her fists, which had been upraised, also fell. "What's all the ruckus?" she droned sleepily.

"You didn't hear?" her father smiled, "Your baby brother was hungry. Oh, and your more contemporary older brother also made his return."

The little redhead's eyes jolted open, "You mean... you? Was it... Leo?" The man said nothing, returning his sister's glare. "Hi, it's nice to finally meet you. I know no one else has told you, but I have-"

"Amnesia," the young man choked, "I know."

Morgan's brow jumped up, "You do? How?"

"I just know," he folded his arms and shut his eyes.

"That's no way to treat your sister, Leo," his father reprimanded with a furrowed brow.

"Of course," scoffed the man with the auburn hair, "make no excuses for anyone except the little princess, that's your style, isn't it?"

Robin softened his features, "Is that it, then? This hostility... is it because I was somehow cruel to you in the future?"

"As cruel as any man may be to his son," the young man growled.

Steven was quick to chide him, "Leo, how dare you speak to your own father that way? This man has done nothing but love you!"

The former tactician held his hand up, "Thank you, Steven, but that won't be necessary. If Leo's decided to despise me, I'm sure he must have his reasons. I won't try to change is mind or harry him for things I don't know about. If you ever feel like it, though, know that my door is always open, son." Robin took another moment to glare at his son, whose eye opened only a twinge, then proceeded back up the staircase.

"S-So..." Morgan pressed her index fingers together, "You don't like me, Leo?"

"No, I don't," the young man spat at his sister, "So leave me alone, you twerp." Leo cracked his neck and rose from the wall upon which he was leaning, and moved to throw the door open, "This is why I didn't desire to come here in the first place." He slammed the door shut behind him.

Morgan's head dropped to the floor. "Oh, don't be sad, Morgie, honey," her sister sidled up beside her, "Leo's... hit a rough patch. He used to be such a good kid, but he fell on some hard times."

"What happened to him?" Morgan wondered.

Sylvia shrugged, "I couldn't tell you."

"Weren't you performing with him before?" Morgan continued, "That's what father told me."

"I was," she smiled for only a moment, "but that was the first time Leo'd been within ten miles of me in... oh, hell, seven years?"

"Steven," the little redhead lifted her head, "Do you know anything?"

The silver-haired man looked away, "No. Leo and I weren't ever particularly close. He always resented our father, and believed I represented the worst part of him. Leo ran away from us at the first opportunity he had."

"And my act has suffered ever since," Sylvia bit her lip.

"Sylvia," Steven cocked an eyebrow, "Neither the time nor the place."

"Oh, bite me, you stuffed-shirt," she giggled, "I bet a little show would be just the thing for Morgan right now. How 'bout it, sis? Would you like to learn a little of the trade?"

"Actually," Morgan ceased pouting, "that does sound pretty fun."

"Whaddya think, Steve?" the chestnut-haired girl winked, "Care to join us?"

Steven glanced down at his baby sister's glistening eyes and small smile, "All right."

"Are we all safe up here?" Robin announced, his hand pulling him up the railing over the final step.

"Tsk," Anna pulled up her shirt, ducking to one side, "Lucky for you. Looks like little Steven's all set now."

"Good to hear," the former tactician draped an arm around his wife's shoulders and admired their son. The child's eyes were shut softly and little more than his chest stirred as he breathed calmly in his mother's arms.

Anna's gaze narrowed on the bundle, as well, "You know... I was worried about him, at first. And I was worried about myself, too. I was scared I wasn't going to know what to do with a child."

"No one does," her husband chuckled.

"What I was trying to say," she nodded at him, "is that now I just feel happy. Like this kid is all I ever needed."

"Standing right here," the former tactician feigned injury.

"Oh, hush," she put her hand over his face dismissively, "You know I love you, but this little boy is about fifty percent you, too, so it's not like I'm insulting you, either."

"He has got a debonair charm about him," Robin smiled grandly, "I suppose he can only be my son."

"Shush," she chided again, "All that hot air you're releasing is going to wake him up."

"I know some lullabies," Robin stroked his shirt.

"Good," she pecked him on the cheek, dragging him by the wrist back into their bedroom, "I'm gonna need a few." A knock at the door opened the merchant's eyes as they sat in the dark room.

"I've got it," Robin grunted, getting up. He drifted down the stairs quickly but quietly and reached the door, pulling it open to reveal the exalt, his wife, and his sister. "Chrom, Olivia, Lissa. This is a surprise."

"We heard the news," the exalt declared simply.

"We saw some lights on, so we figured it'd be okay," Lissa grinned at Robin.

"How is little Morgan?" Olivia mused.

"Actually," Robin scratched the back of his neck, "this will require some explanation, but, I'd be happy to take you to meet my _son_."

"S-Son?" Chrom doubled back.

"Come on inside," the former tactician welcomed them, "I'll put some tea on and explain things."

* * *

"Four children, meeting three in such a short time. Must be quite a feeling," Chrom breathed, lifting a cup to his lips.

"I'll say," Robin did the same.

"You can say 'hi' to number one, if you'd like," Anna offered the bundle in her arms, "but be nice and quiet, we just got him back to sleep."

The three visitors admired the child as he was shown to them. Olivia, the most experienced mother among them, took the bundle and held it to her chest in the same manner that Anna had. "Hello, Steven" Chrom murmured, "I'm sure you're going to prove a great man, just like your father."

"Aww," Lissa squealed quietly, "Lookit his wittle hands..."

"He's... very cute," Olivia smiled broadly at the child. After they had had their fill, the exalt's wife returned Steven to his mother.

"You're welcome to take as much time as you need off, Robin," Chrom extended, "but... as soon as you're able, the halidom could certainly still use you."

"Chrom's desk is a mess of paperwork he doesn't know what to do with," his wife giggled.

"Nothing I can't handle..." the exalt gritted his teeth, "but, seriously, as soon as you're ready."

Anna stared the blue-haired man straight in the face, "I'm gonna need a lot of help. Babies take some work, as I hope you know." Maintaining her support of Steven, the redhead draped her other arm both protectively and sumptuously over her husband, "I'm not letting this man go anywhere just yet."

Lissa laughed, "You guys are too cute."

"As if I'd leave you, my darling," Robin played along, pulling his wife's head down so he could kiss her. Quickly, however, the former tactician became aware of a slight movement of the door, "Is someone out there?"

There was a pause, and what sounded like a muffled gasp, followed by a curse of some sort. A few soft footsteps heralded Lucina as she sauntered in. "I... also wished to see the newborn. I can leave, if you'd like."

Robin shrugged, "No, of course not. Come, sit down."

"I only came for a moment," Lucina assured, "To see the face of hope on the children of this era... that would bring me great joy." Anna lifted the child to the same level as her forehead, and Lucina walked around the sofa to take a look at his face, "He seems... very happy. He'll be a strong boy, and proud, too."

A sigh foretold of the older Steven as he pushed through the door. Robin made the introduction: "Ah, Steven. What happened to your sisters?"

"They're fine, bored with a stick-in-the-mud like me," he laughed, straightening his hair.

"Y-You mean... he...?" Lucina watched the silver-haired man.

"Ah, you're Chrom's girl, aren't you?" Steven recognized, "Lucina, right? My, you're as lovely as they say."

Lucina blushed, "Th-Thank you, sir... but... I feel a trifle uncomfortable: you know of me from your time, but I know you not."

"Of course," he nodded, "I am called Steven, and I am the first-born son of Grandmaster Robin and his wife, the Secret Seller, Anna."

"As is he," Lucina nodded to the child who, fortunately, was still asleep in his mother's arms.

"I don't mean to be a bother," the young man apologized, "I'll leave if my presence disturbs you, Lady Lucina."

The princess hesitated a moment, staring the silver-haired man in the eyes, "Um, hold a moment... Would you care to tell me of your future? I wish to know what peace is like, and what it brings to this realm."

"My lady," Steven bowed, "I apologize, but if you wish to hear of peace, do not ask for the tale of my future."

"What happened?" Lucina jumped quickly.

"It's not a concern, for now," the young man looked away, "We should focus on the peace we do have, today."

"I don't believe I care much for you planting more ominous messages in the back of my mind without explanation," Lucina frowned.

"I'm sorry," Steven bowed, "I'm told I always produce more questions than answers. Perhaps it's a curse."

"I suppose I'll leave, then," Lucina nodded at her father.

"Er, my lady," Steven coughed, "I won't stop you, but... now that you're here, I'd love the chance to speak with you-briefly, of course-about your experience in the war, and before you came to this time. Your strength has inspired entire collections of literature, and I wish to extract a bit of rhetoric from the source material, if I may be so bold."

"I fear I don't possess words so weighty as you'll exepect," a smile appeared on her face.

"No trouble at all, my dear. You're an inspiration," he repeated, "anything you say will be helpful to me, I assure you."

"Well..." she exhaled, "I suppose I can't refuse such a polite and benign request. All right."

"Thank you, milady," he bowed once more, "come this way, and we'll talk." The silver-haired man led the princess out the front door. Robin shrugged and smiled to himself.

"Soft-spoken lad," Chrom observed.

"He takes after his father, in that regard," declared Anna, hooking her arm around her husband once again.

"He's got a merchant's bedside manner," the former tactician redirected.

Chrom stood, "Well, we don't mean to impose upon your hospitality. We'll get going." The exalt gestured to his family to rise and come with him.

"It was nice seeing you again, Robin," Lissa grinned.

"Take care," Olivia waved. The door shut behind them with a click.

Anna shifted over on the sofa, "I would've thought you would protest their leaving."

"No," he dismissed, "I'm too tired to deal with any royal nonsense right now. The only one I care about today is you."

Her lips creased upward as she leaned back into her husband, "If I take a little nap, will you be okay watching over Steven?"

"Of course," he surmised, "unless the boy wants to nurse again, of course."

"You'll have to find a way," she slapped his cheek to fill him with vigor, "I will be a _wreck_ if I don't get my eight hours."

He put his palm over her forehead and stroked her hair back as her head descended into his lap, "Right, then. Go ahead, sleep away." Anna shut her eyes and readjusted her posutre, kicking her legs up onto the sofa.

* * *

"How much you gonna put up?" demanded the blonde, looking sternly at the cavalier across the table.

"I don't have much," he admitted, turning out his pockets, "Uh... let's say... six gold?"

"Six gold?" Vaike's brow dropped, "C'mon, Stahl, take a risk!"

"It's all I have, I swear," he frowned.

"I'll give ya a pack of gumdrops," the thief reported, looking over the table.

"Gumdrops? Can it, Gaius, no one wants your stupid candy," he fumed.

"This 'stupid' candy is forged in a little factory outside the capital of Rosanne," Gaius growled, indignant, "steeped in mineral water for over eighteen hours, the gelatin compound is then-"

"I got a hundred gold on the tactician," Sully dropped a stack of coins onto the table.

"Now we're talkin'," Vaike grinned, "Thanks, Sully. I can always count on you to put these chumps in their place."

"And, pray, what is transpiring here?" announced a regal voice, "A wager, is it?"

"Bubbles and Red are at each other's throats again," Gaius chuckled, "They're playin' a bit o'darts." The "thunk" of one such dart supported Gaius's claim as it stuck in a wall nearby.

"Oh-ho," the noble archer's eyes glowed, "I am always impressed by our tactician, but none can surpass lovely Lady Anna in a game of skill and marksmanship."

"Hah!" they heard the redhead shout, "In your face!"

"Lucky shot," grumbled the tactician.

"You see?" Virion smiled proudly.

"I see you ain't gonna be able to bet much longer," Vaike tapped his foot, "You gonna put in a wager, or you just gonna stand there with your hands in your full pockets?"

"Oh, very well... Is three thousand gold appropriate?" the archer searched his pockets.

"That might be-" Stahl began. A hand was slapped over his mouth immediately, both Vaike and Gaius glaring at him.

"That's just fine," Vaike hurriedly took the money and placed it on the table.

"That's got it!" Robin celebrated, "I believe I've tipped the scales."

"Get over yourself," Anna spat.

"Good sportsmen!" Virion called, "A glass of fine Rosanne brandy to the victor!"

"Shut yer yap, you feather-head!" Vaike sat him down, "You think that merchant's gonna let a bet be made on her without takin' some kinda cut?"

"Oh," he realized, "I suppose that is true. I'm afraid sport simply excites me."

"You know, gambling without a license is illegal in Ylisse," a voice commanded. They all froze in place at the sight of their commander. "Which makes it a good thing we're not in Ylisse," the prince laughed. The others released their stopped hearts, finding it significantly less funny. "Give me four hundred on Robin," Chrom grabbed a chair and dropped his money before Vaike.

"So, lessee," Vaike took stock, "We got 506 on Robin, and 3,000, plus a bag of some fancy-shmancy gumdrops on the merchant. That's a little more like it."

"I don't even need to look," Anna teased, covering her eyes. She lobbed her next dart. It struck not two inches below the center.

"Oh, yeah?" the tactician attempted the same. This time, however, the dart glanced off the wooden wall at well beneath the board. Anna laughed at him mercilessly.

"Hmm... perhaps Virion was right," Chrom squinted at the pair.

"Vaike? I've returned," Frederick cleared his throat, "Oh, uh, milord! I..."

"It's fine, Frederick," Chrom waved his hand.

"I see," the great knight nodded sheepishly, "Well, in that case, I'll put two hundred behind Robin."

"706 for Robin," Vaike totalled.

"This'll do it," Anna taunted. Another perfect bullseye.

Robin concentrated, staring down the line. He trained his shot carefully, bending his arm just so and prepared to loose his throw...

"Robin!"

The tactician lost his balance, tripping forward and dropping the dark off into the dirt. Anna laughed again. Robin ignored her and turned his head to the voice. Nowi skipped and jumped toward him, "I found that book you wanted!"

"Oh, thank you, Nowi," he sighed, taking the blue volume from her tiny hands.

"What's the matter?" she puffed out her cheeks, "Did I do something?"

"No," he dismissed, "you did just what I asked. Thanks, Nowi. You're a good helper."

"Yay!" she flew off, "Robin says I'm a good helper!" The tactician stared at her back with amusement.

"Tough luck, tactician-boy," Anna gloated, bringing back the board and pulling the darts from it. She looked down at the text in his hands, "What's that?"

"Collected histories of the various noble men and women who've saved their countries, like Chrom, and how they managed. I need to know these sorts of stories; they're chock-full of strategic ideas. Marth, Alm, Roy, Eliwood, Eirika and Ephraim, Ike, Micaiah... there's a lot to see," the tactician concluded.

"Ah, heroes of old..." Anna sighed, "All such brave,strong men and women... I've read a lot about all of them in my family ledger." "But, as for you..." the merchant lifted her head, "You'd better work on your aim. You can't hope to follow in those colossal footsteps if you can't win a little party game, short stuff." She ruffled his hair.

"I'm as tall as you," he droned in reply.

"Anyway..." she smirked, "I win, so you know the rules..."

"Fine," he rolled his eyes, "you can just put the laundry outside my tent. I'll take care of it." "Never knew you were so eager to have me handle your smallclothes," he grumbled sarcastically. She cocked an eyebrow and punched him in the stomach. The tactician prepared to retaliate with another remark, but as he looked up, something caught his eye. In an instant, he leapt in front of the merchant, pushing her back.

"The hell?" she responded, whipping her head around in time to see an arrow dig into the tactician's shoulder.

"Agh!" he grunted, "Dammit!" Robin slumped to the ground.

"Archers!" Chrom brought up the cry of realization, "Shepherds, to arms!"

"Oh my gods! Wait, somebody, help Robin!" Anna kneeled down next to him. She panicked as the blood ebbed from his shoulder. "Get me my staff!" she demanded, "Anyone! _Now_!"

* * *

The tactician's eyes slowly drifted open, recognizing the pale white light of the medical tent. He tried to prop himself up, but felt a searing twist in his arm. He sat up gingerly, resting his weight on the opposite arm, looking down at his now bare chest, bandages trailing the length of his shoulder. It had been healed by a staff, but not well. It still hurt like a bastard.

Anna looked up at him apologetically from the other side of the room, "...Hi."

"This is starting to be a little too common an occurence for us," Robin chuckled, clutching his shoulder when he was reminded of the pain.

"No kidding. Lissa says she's gonna start charging," Anna giggled, "I might've had something to do with that..." Robin laughed with her. "But, moreover, what the hell were you thinking, Robin?" Anna frowned at him, "You could have just told me to get out of the way, or something."

He glanced down at the pillow, "I... I didn't know if you were going to be able to..."

She smiled, "C'mon, when have you known me not to dodge, so long as I had advance notice?"

He nodded and shrugged. Anna noticed the blue volume that was sitting on the table beside the cot, the same one from earlier in the day. His eyes trailed hers down to the same spot, "Or maybe... I just thought... I don't know..." The tactician smiled bitterly, "I guess I thought for a moment that I could be some kind of hero."

"Not this again," she rolled her eyes, "Robin, when are you going to be satisfied with being yourself?" He buried his head. "You know, taking an arrow for a lady doesn't just make you a hero. Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful, but the guys in those books didn't just line up to be martyrs, they found a cause or a person they believed in and fought to protect it. They were judicious and strong in equal measure, you see. That's why they're heroes, not because they've got big, heavy armor or cutting gazes."

"I guess I've still got a long way to go, seeing as I'm apparently neither," Robin shook his head.

"Can it," she pushed him to lay back down, "For now you just need to rest and get back to normal."

"If I ever can," he grumbled, "this is really shoddy healing work."

"I was stressed, okay?" she barked at him.

"I'm just happy you could quit your gloating long enough to help me," he grinned.

"Oh, enough," she sighed, "I won't make you do the stupid laundry."

"Gee, thanks," he accepted, "Maybe if I take an arrow to the liver they'll let me out of mess duty, too." She chuckled with him.

"I gotta head out," the merchant indicated the exit with her thumb,

"Sure, go ahead," he rolled over a bit, "but, you know, come back any time."

"Will do," she breathed, "Take care." She stood and took a few steps toward the tent flap, but paused a moment and turned in place, "Oh, and Robin?" He looked up. "None of those heroes went into battle with the intention of being written as a hero in histories. Sometimes, when you're truly heroic, you're the only one who doesn't end up knowing as much," she winked at him, "Just saying."

The redhead strode out of the tent, satisfied with herself, until she heard a clamoring of voices.

"It ain't my fault you bet on the wrong guy! Pay up!" demanded one harshly.

"Not a chance!" the other argued, "That last shot was unfair! Anyway, gambling is illegal. I don't owe you a thing."

"You... you just think you own everybody, don't you, ya royal pain? You think the Vaike is too small time to be obeyed, is that it?" the first voice growled.

"You want my money?" taunted the second, "Come and take it!"

"Did I hear something about betting?" Anna walked out to find Vaike and Chrom leering at one another.

"Oh, Anna, I was just on my way to see Robin," he pushed past Vaike, "Excuse me."

"Hold it, Daddy Warbucks," she grabbed his arm, "Vaike, what's going on? And don't even think of lying to me."

"W-Well," he scratched the back of his head, "it's really nothin', just me, Chrom, an' the boys, we were havin' a little fun..."

"What was the wager?" Anna demanded.

"Uh... who would win your dart game," he replied sheepishly.

"So you were betting on us instead of protecting the camp, which is likely why we got ambushed to begin with?" Anna's glare became ever more insinuating.

"Well, when you put it like that," he had broken into a cold sweat.

Anna tapped a finger on her lips, "Where's my cut?"

Vaike swallowed as he heard the dreaded word, "Your what?"

"My cut, Vaike," she put a hand on the hilt of her blade, "If you were betting on me, I deserve a portion of the winnings."

"I'll, uh, go check what we have..." he began to scamper away.

"That would be a good idea," she called after him, "If I don't see you with my money by sundown... neither will anyone else, clear?"

"Crystal, ma'am!" he proceeded into a jog, then a full sprint.

"And you," she jabbed her finger at Chrom, who was attempting to tiptoe away, "You'll need to cough up, too. How're those royal coffers lookin'?" Chrom gritted his teeth.

* * *

The young man with the aurburn hair felt his head scrape against the grass, the final flecks of starlight now yielding to the pale, ugly gray of the early morning. He brought his hands behind his head to use as a headrest and pondered the horizon a bit longer. He had driven his sister away. That was what he had always wanted, wasn't it? He dropped his gaze. The empty look in her eyes as he reported his hatred... Did he hate her? Was it even possible to despise a girl like that? Maybe not for the others, but for him... After all, they didn't know what he'd endured, did they? No, not one of them knew, that soulless, always-laughing girl least of all. She was filled with more glee than ever. Perhaps there was a lesson in that. Leo entertained how to make it into a saying, the way Steven would, as he sat in silence. The sun would be making its slow trail up before long.


	24. Mark-Up

The silver-haired young man frowned a bit as he wiped the smudge of dew from the ink on his notes. Everything else on the page looked fine, but that little spot would ruin it forever. He sighed, what a nuisance. "Thank you for taking the time, milady," Steven bowed to his guest, slapping the book shut in his hand.

"It was nothing, truly," she smiled, "but... I would again ask you, why is it you've come from the future? What disaster is to be averted? Because we have an army still among us that has fought back odds the likes of which you might not be capable of imagining."

Steven nodded with an acerbic chuckle, "I appreciate your enthusiasm, Lady Lucina, but I must make myself clear without counteracting my purpose... You returned to the past on the understanding that you should avoid altering history where it was unneccessary, did you not?"

"I did, but you don't seem to care much for that, given your appearance to your parents among your siblings," she noted.

"Fair enough," he tipped his head, "but that was not my intention... I only thought to tell my mother and father not to be troubled by the fact that they were presented with a son, rather than a daughter. I knew of my sister's appearance in this time."

"So you know of me, your sister... Tell me, then, your future does not meet its end by Grima's hand, does it?"

"Not at all," the young man shook his head, "And that is the complication. The enemy I face and sought to prevent cannot be defeated by an army, and cannot be prepared for so conventionally... My mission in returning to the past... it is so that I may make the necessary maneuvers to... maintain stability, and to mitigate certain critical mistakes that will cause a great deal of trouble in the future. It is a mission from which I have already too long strayed..."

The girl with the sapphire hair gazed at the young man a moment as he finished speaking, finding panic behind his eyes. She recognized it immediately: she could see him enduring the same feeling she had experienced when she had witnessed Emmeryn's death. "Your intentions still seem... unclear. However, I assure you that my father and I will be present to support you as soon as we may, whenever it is you might need us."

"Of that, I have no doubt, milady," he grinned, "Now, I apologize for my brevity, but I must speak with my family. The time has come to put myself back into motion. I thank you again for your words."

"Of course," she bowed as they stood.

* * *

Anna heard herself grumble a bit as she yawned, closing her apparently open mouth and smelling her own morning breath. She squinted in the meager daylight and wiped her nose. Her head sank a bit in embarrassment as she noticed stains from drool on the pillow. She wiped her chin, too.

"Oh, now _that_ is sexy," her husband laughed gruffly from his side of the bed.

She slapped his chest, "Shut up... You... you don't know how tired I get..."

"Well, I hate to impose upon you," he patted her shoulder, "but it seems our boy requests another meeting with you." The baby cried softly in his father's arms, reaching outward blindly.

"Sure thing," she mused more affably as she took the child into her arms, "C'mere, kiddo. We'll, uh, get you some breakfast, I guess."

"Does this mean I have to go downstairs again?" Robin asked plaintively, knowing the answer.

"Yes, please," she shooed him out the door, as he had already stood up. The former tactician rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he marched down the stairs heavily, to announce his presence for any one of his children who might be looking for him.

"Father!" he heard an excitable cry. The little redhead bounded out of the room in no time, "Look, look what Sylvia taught me!"

"I'm looking," he bent down to see, catching a glimpse of her sparkling eyes.

"Okay, okay, here's a ball, see?" she held a small orange sphere in her pale open palm.

"Yes, all right," he nodded at it.

"Now, watch, I'm gonna put it behind my back and toss it back and forth, and when I bring it back, you have to guess which hand it's in, okay?" she instructed, whipping both her arms behind her back and deftly moving her fingers around in an effort to give the appearance that she was switching the ball around rapidly.

"All right," he smiled as she brought her closed fists forward before him.

"Which hand, father? Can you guess?" she leered at him.

"Hmm..." he lowered his head to her right hand first, staring at it a minute, then shifted over and did the same to the other. He made no apparent signs of decision.

"I appreciate the need for thought, but how about today, father?" Morgan insisted, tapping her foot.

"Okay, then," he resumed standing posture, then reached his hand out. Morgan closed her eyes and giggled, then stopped as the hand went right past her and into the hood of her cloak.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?" she chided her father.

"Found it," he plucked the bauble from its hiding place with a knowing grin.

"Rat traps," she sighed, "how did you figure that out?"

He put a hand on his daughter's shoulder, "Parlor tricks, honey, are some of the most transparent forms of trickery in the world, and when you're required to be as clever as I, you don't fall for such simple baroque."

"Very dismissive of you," his other daughter folded her arms as she sidled up to her sister, "that one's my favorite opener. I demand to know how you figured it out so quickly."

"It's just a routine distraction, a very simple strategy," Robin leaned in, "Wherever you're telling me to look is exactly where I shouldn't be looking. You tell me to watch your hands so I'm distracted by the attempt to perceive which hand the ball is going into, which disguises the reality of you putting it somewhere else. The hood was just a guess because Morgan didn't take much time to bring her hands forward and doesn't have many pockets."

"Hah!' Morgan laughed, "Father read through your whole trick, just like you explained it, Sylvia! Maybe his tactical knowledge is a magic all his own!"

"Yeah, yeah," the chestnut-haired girl grumbled.

"In fairness, I probably could have taught her that one," the former tactician allowed.

"Just be ready for something a little more complex next time," she folded her arms again and nodded with determination.

"I welcome it, honey," he smiled.

"Sylvia," Steven called as the door slid open, "Good, I hoped I'd find you in here."

"What's the dealy-o, Steve?" she played with one of her bangs.

"Is Leo around?" he asked, glancing about the room.

"Nah, I think he went to do a little more brooding," Sylvia replied with a mocking ring.

"We need to find him," the silver-haired man insisted, "It's time to get things moving."

"You'd never find me if I didn't want to be found," the boy with the auburn hair stepped out from a corner of the room.

Sylvia leapt back, "Eek! L-Leo! Don't do that!"

He ignored her, "Whatever you've got to say, say it."

"Father, could you bring mother down here?" the young man requested.

"Of course," Robin nodded and called up the steps, "Anna, hon, the kids want a word."

"Just a sec," they heard. A few shuffling noises resounded from the bedroom before light footsteps began to rap on the ceiling above them, and, within a minute, the redheaded woman dropped down the last step, baby Steven in her arms, and assumed her position next to her husband, "What is it?"

"Mother, father," Steven began ceremoniously, acknowledging both of them through eye contact, "While it's been great to see the both of you... better than you could possibly imagine, for some of us, I'm afraid now we need to say goodbye."

"What's this?" his father cocked an eyebrow, "All of a sudden?"

"Please understand," the silver-haired young man scratched his chin, "this decision was not made easily, but we need to be ready to forge the precautions to keep the world from descending into the future we've escaped from."

"Still a bit unclear on what that is, exactly," Robin persisted.

"I'm sorry," the boy bowed his head, "I fear speaking of it will only ensure that it will proceed unimpeded. I think the term is a 'self-fulfilling prophecy.' That sort of downfall has been hypothesized in so many pieces of literature... Perhaps it's needlessly superstitious or overcautious, but I would rather avoid any conflict that could be predicted by even pop fiction such as _Southern Raven_."

"Ooh, I read that one!" Morgan jumped.

Steven was momentarily distacted and cocked an eyebrow, "How? It hasn't been written yet."

She pressed her fingers together, "I... _might_ have taken it out of your satchel..."

The young man shook his head, "Regardless, my point is, the world cannot know of its fate if it is to be protected. It's only a hypothesis, but I would rather not be forced to test it. And, at any rate, I've already stayed far longer than I ever should have. I only intended to help explain the presence of your son... I never should have made any pretense of planning to remain."

"Is there truly nothing you can tell us?" the former tactician implored.

"Father, there's nothing I need tell you, in truth. Just be the same man you've always been. Oh, and if you happen to be the worrisome sort, watch your intake of greasy foods. That's what some have told me," he reported with a clinical smile, an undertone of mocking in his eyes. His father matched the look.

"I feel like I've barely even met you," Anna sighed, staring at her grown son and then beyond him to her other children.

"I know, mother, and I'm sorry," he walked forward and embraced her tightly, "but this is simply the way things must be. I have a parting gift for you, though." He reached into the pocket of his cloak and produced a tiny alabaster figurine.

Anna took it at his encouragement, "It looks like one of those Goddess Icons my sisters sell."

The young man nodded, "It is similar. Take it, and keep it with you at all times. It might be something of a good luck charm."

"Now, there's one last question," Steven exhaled grandly, shutting his eyes a moment, as though he had just awoken. His onyx eyes focused down on his baby sister, "Morgan..."

"Yes?" her bright eyes stared back, chin resting on her palm.

"I want to give you a choice... would you like to stay with mother and father, or would you prefer to join your siblings, to live like the family did in our own future?"

"What?" her eyes narrowed.

"I don't know that I can make it any clearer-"

She shook her head, "No, I don't need you to elaborate, I just... Sheesh, that's a heck of a choice to lay at your sister's feet, Steven."

"Wouldn't be the first time," he chuckled enigmatically.

"My parents... or my siblings... those are my only options?" she frowned.

"I'm afraid so," he empathized, "there's no way we can continue to stay here. We can't lose focus, and we can't risk altering the future by meddling in our parents' affairs, no matter how much we may miss them." The silver-haired young man smiled at his mother and father again.

"Then, I guess that settles it," Morgan sighed. Her mother braced herself. "I wish you good luck. And I hope to see you again."

Sylvia's head shifted over, "You don't want to come with us?"

"No," she put her palm to her cheek, "I mean, I want to go with you, but not at the expense of having to leave my mother and father behind. I just can't do that."

"I had expected that might be your decision," her oldest brother nodded.

"Leo," she muttered, biting her lip, "before you go, will you tell me why it is you despise me so?"

"That'd run contrary to what Steve just said," he cleared his throat, "If you're not coming with us, then I can't expect to tell you about the future without affecting our parents."

"You don't trust me to keep a secret?" she watched him carefully.

"Leo, if I may," their father held out his hand. All heads turned. "It seems this one particular issue has been distressing you greatly. It's easy to see the tension in your face every time you're around Morgan... Whatever you have to say, clearly it's something deeply personal," Robin gestured instructively, "It seems to me that the truth will set you free, Leo. Maybe, if you surpass this concern, you can begin to change your feelings toward your sister."

"I think it's best she never remembers," he coughed.

"I don't think that's true," Morgan impressed, puffing out her cheeks, "I can see the way you look at me... It's not pure contempt, is it? There's something else in there... longing? Sadness? Regret, perhaps?"

"She always could read people," Steven chuckled grimly, "Leo, maybe it's time we talked this out as a family."

"You won't feel quite so familial when you hear it," he grunted bitterly.

"I want to know, no matter how bad it is," Morgan insisted, balling her fists until her knuckles turned white.

The boy with the auburn hair bowed his head in slight deference and slipped out the door, "Mother... and father... Goodbye." They watched him leave.

"It was great seeing you both again," Steven embraced both his parents, accepting a kiss on the cheek from his mother.

"Don't be a stranger, son," Robin smiled.

"Too late," he chuckled, "Pretend I was never here."

"No can do," his mother chimed in, "Seriously, come visit your mom sometime, kiddo."

He stared at the floor, then hazarded a glimpse back up, "No promises." He pivoted away and stepped out.

"Sorry to have to split so early, daddy, and mom," the girl with the chestnut hair pulled up her cloak, preparing to drape the hood over her shoulders, "but Steve's word is law so long as we're here. We all want the same thing."

"How dutiful," her father laughed, "you must be my daughter, indeed." She dismissed him and pecked him on the cheek.

"Maybe you'll let your mom do a little promotional dealing at your shows?" Anna raised her eyebrows hopefully.

She bowed her head, "I wish... but it looks like showtime might be over, at least for a little while. I'll send you a letter if I find an opening." Sylvia winked and followed her siblings.

"What a motley crew we've raised," Robin declared idly, staring at the closed door.

"There's more colorful blood between the two of us that I expected, that's for sure," Anna leaned onto his shoulder. A wail was heard from upstairs. "Ugh," Anna bent her head, "changing time."

* * *

The four children had distanced themselves from the home sufficiently to Steven's taste, and so now stood assembled in the pale green grass, standing and refusing to make eye contact with one another.

"So?" Morgan huffed.

"So?" Leo grumbled.

"Are you going to tell me what the deal is or not?" she rolled her eyes.

"I wasn't aware you'd be making such a production of it," he snarled.

"It wasn't my choice," the little redhead argued in reply.

"Fine," he bit back, "fine. You want the truth? You want to hear why your brother hates you? It's because our mother died thanks to you!"

"W-What?" Morgan staggered a step back.

"You're nothing but a living reminder that my mother is dead, and you're always so damned pleased with yourself! So happy, so carefree!" the boy with the auburn hair railed, "You don't deserve to be among us! It's your fault, and now the amnesia has completely liberated you from guilt! I gave you carte blanche on the one transgression I could never forgive. That's why I can't stand the sight of you." Leo didn't remain to hear the response to his news, but rather turned and walked away, self-imposed deafness preventing the beckoning of his remaining siblings.

[...]

"Robin..." Anna trailed a hand along her pant leg, "Can I ask you a little something?"

"Here we go," the former tactician muttered, straightening the covers on their bed, which had been ruffled quite a bit due to their nocturnal disturbance, much to Robin's annoyance.

"You... you still think I'm attractive, right?" she wondered.

He picked his head up and stared at her, bemused, "Um, I think there's a reasonable degree of evidence that I do sleeping in your arms right now."

"No," she shook her head, a bit frustrated, "but what I mean is... You know, outside of potential children, and after this whole pregnancy ordeal, you still... I mean, you'd still like to..."

"Anna, what in the name of Naga brought this on?" Robin shrugged.

"I just get to talking with the girls in Ylisstol sometimes, you know?" she shifted her gaze to each side.

"You talk with the other Shepherds about their sex lives?" he cocked an eyebrow.

"You make it sound so... foul!" she grunted in indignation, "It's just a little... chat, you know? Between us ladies. Pretty normal."

"Whatever you say," he went back to pulling at the blanket to set it perfectly parallel to the mattress beneath, "but I think you're forgetting that talking to them usually doesn't work out as well as you seem to think."

"What are you on about?" she stared at him, rocking baby Steven, who had stirred a bit after his mother's outburst.

"You don't remember? The day you embarrassed yourself at camp?" he chuckled.

"I probably remember it a bit differently," she smirked.

"Well, as _I_ recall it..."

* * *

Anna took a swig from the small porcelain cup. She shrugged a bit to herself. That noblewoman had hyped this stuff up, but it didn't even begin to compare to some of the teas she had had around the world. It was average, at best.

"Enjoying it, darling?" the blonde woman smiled at Anna with her accusing red eyes.

"Yeah, it's good," she said neutrally, downing the rest quickly. "Well," Anna stretched her arms and planted her feet on the ground, preparing to stand up, "I'd best be hitting the ol' dusty trail..."

"Just a moment," the blonde sat her back down, "I wanted to chat a bit more."

"Of course," Anna resigned more than a little sarcastically.

"Specifically," she began, "I was wondering how your love life was going, darling."

Anna stared at the other woman. She knew this girl through and through; she had seen a million like her in the past. She was like every noblewoman Anna had ever met. This question was not posed for the sake of Anna's answer; this woman did not care how Anna's love life was doing. In fact, she knew well enough that Anna would reply that she wasn't really seeing anyone, and she would respond as if that had been the answer no matter how the merchant actually replied. This was only an invitation to let herself talk about the specific subject she had introduced. "Okay, I guess. I'm not really seeing anyone," the redhead sighed.

"Mm-hm," the blonde nodded, "Well, I must tell you, I've been having such a time with Gaius, you know? I expected him to be more... obedient when he became my husband."

Anna chuckled, "Believing that marriage is going to fundamentally change anyone's character is a mistake. And I've seen it made plenty."

"Well, how does one live with such a thing?" Maribelle stammered, "What am I to do if my husband simply refuses to listen to me?"

Anna cocked an eyebrow at the other woman, "He's your husband isn't he? He married you for at least one reason..."

"I'm afraid I don't follow," Maribelle stared back blankly.

"Just, you know," Anna gestured meaninglessly with her hands, "work your angle."

"My 'angle?'" she repeated.

Anna rolled her eyes, "Yeah, you know, flex a little _muscle_. Alter the _momentum_. Take a _hard_ stance..."

"Really, dear, intonating your voice does not make your point any clearer," the blonde was even more confused.

"Gods," Anna applied her palm to her forehead, "even you noble ladies can't be _this_ naive..."

Maribelle put her hands on her hips, "Obviously I'm not understanding your intent, perhaps because I'm above whatever it is you're suggesting I do, so just spit it out."

"I mean you might have to use your, uh, 'feminine wiles' if you want to get through to Gaius," Anna declared finally with a frustrated exhale.

"Oh," Maribelle put a finger to her lip, "I hadn't thought of that. And that works?"

"Not all the time. Sometimes Stahl talks about chafing between horse riding and going at it, and then I can't get him to do jack," the redheaded cavalier guffawed from another room.

Maribelle jumped, "Egads, Sully! How long have you been hiding out there?"

"I wasn't 'hiding,'" she refuted, "I was just grabbin' a bite. Not my fault this was when you decided to chat about your lady problems."

"Ugh," the blonde recoiled, "You're not to tell anyone about this, you hear?"

"Whatever," Sully shrugged.

The troubadour sat in silence another moment before looking back up, "Er, but, Sully, dear... Does this method also work for you in controlling your husband?"

"I don't look to control anybody, sister," Sully nodded, "but yeah, Stahl's a little more... pliable when he gets to let off a little steam."

"Even just the implication is enough," Anna compounded, "Look at the way some of the men act around Tharja. When she's not looking back, of course."

"That's true," Maribelle nodded, fingers supporting her chin.

"Or, in reverse, remember when Tharja just refused to climb that one mountain?" she continued.

Maribelle thought back, blushing to recall their tactician's unusual ploy: "Oh, please, Tharja? Walking up there's liable to get me all hot and sweaty. I might just keel over unless there's someone nearby to keep me hydrated along the way..." The dark mage had jumped at the chace. Literally jumped. It was the first time Maribelle had seen the girl eager to do anything.

"You may have a point..." the blonde admitted, "but I don't really know how I would even go about that... It sounds strange, and I'm still not convinced it would work..."

"Aw, c'mon," Anna laughed, "it's easy! I can show you." After a moment's internal deliberation, Maribelle nodded and followed Anna out of the barracks. It wasn't much of a surprise where they were going. Anna pulled the tent flap open, nodding to her disciple, "Watch and learn." "Hey, Robin!" she called out genially.

"Afternoon, Anna," he didn't look up, as per the usual.

"How's work?" she leaned over his shoulder to stare at his desk.

"You know," he shrugged, "work."

She giggled loudly, "Ha, you're funny, Robin."

"Can I help you with something today, Anna?" the tactician turned in his seat to face her with a small smile.

"No, I just felt like coming to see you," she played idly with her hair, "You know the thought of you always makes me come."

His brow shifted uncomfortably, "If you say so."

"Ooh," she feigned surprise, "but I did have a question for you: does this shirt look like it's too tight?" She had him now, leaning in to bring her chest near his face.

"Well," he swallowed, "perhaps it could stand to be a bit looser."

"Oh," she looked down, "then would you mind undoing that button? I can't really see it from my angle, but it should give me some more room.

"You're sure you wouldn't rather do that?" he watched her eyes. This had to be a trick question.

"No, the button's too small and out of the way. C'mon, just do me a favor," she insisted.

He shrugged and reached for the silver ornament, pushing it through the hole. Anna sighed in exaggerated relief as the garment sank off of her slightly. "Better?" he looked up.

She moaned in even more exaggerated ecstasy, "Oh, _so_ much better... I guess I was just holding back a lot."

Robin chose not to comment and looked back to his work.

"Why the silent treatment, Robin?" she draped her arm around his back.

"Anna, you're acting a bit odd," he explained, "Is something the matter?"

She giggled, "Oh, no, I'm doing just fine... But it's so cute to hear you all worried about me... You always do have it in mind to see to my needs, don't you?"

"Um, I try to do as much with all the Shepherds, yes," he rubbed his neck.

"Mmm," she mused, "Oh, you look so tense, always working the dark by yourself, Robin..."

"So I've been told," he rolled his eyes, "Seriously, by nearly everyone in this army."

"I bet if you could just have a little bit of release, you'd feel so much better, like I just did," she conjectured with a smile. He had to be paying attention now.

"Maybe," he shrugged again, "but where do you suppose I'd find such release?"

"Gee," she leaned back and stretched her legs, "I dunno..."

He looked to the ceiling of the tent, "Hah, maybe I'll take a bath later tonight. That would be good."

"Yes," she agreed, "a little warmth does tend to get the blood flowing, doesn't it? And a little cleaning never hurts." The redhead licked her lips.

"True enough," he concurred, "Well, it was good talking to you, Anna."

Her composure broke, "Er, what? I mean- can you do me a little favor before I go, Robin?"

"Hm?" he lifted his head again, "What's that?"

"Could you replace my sword at the next marketplace?" she put a finger to her chin.

"What?" he laughed, "No. That silver sword is in near-perfect condition. Plus, those things are crazy expensive. One of them is enough to feed the camp for half a week."

"Are you sure?" she pouted, leaning onto his desk again, forcing her chest to make contact with his arm and staring into his eyes, "I know I wouldn't worry about going hungry around here... I bet I could find plenty to stuff my mouth." She caught herself... Maybe that was laying it on a bit thick.

She saw the note reflect on his face as he cocked an eyebrow, "Not now, Anna, okay? Maybe when it's closer to breaking and we have more to spend." The merchant tried once more but was directed similarly. She had no choice but to sigh and leave the tent.

"That didn't seem to go very well," the blonde observed acerbically.

"That oblivious... argh!" Anna grunted, pumping her fists, "He's just dense as a rock. It works, I promise!"

"Mm-hm," Maribelle sighed, sauntering away.

The tent flap pushed open, heralding Robin as he stepped out. "Here," he instructed, handing the redhead a wet rag.

"What's this for?" she took it.

"You're not yourself," he determined, "Perhaps you're delirious, or perhaps someone has cursed you."

"No, I'm fine," she took the rag away.

"I can assure you, you're not," he retorted, "Now, I'll just get Lissa and Tharja. Maybe one of them can tell me what's going on with you. We'll find out if it's one or the other."

"N-No, don't do that!" Anna held her hands up.

He looked down at her expectantly, "And why not?"

"Because... because..." she pressed her fingers together, "I was deliberately acting... like that... to try to prove a point."

"Obviously," he nodded.

"What?" she folded her arms, "Like you knew."

"You were pretty transparent," he mirrored her, "I mean, 'I bet I could find plenty to stuff my mouth?' Come on."

She blushed, "W-Well... I... Oh, what's it to you?"

"Nothing," he dismissed, "I just figured we were past the point where you'd try to trick me."

"Oh, no," she smiled, "trying to trick you is way too much fun to give up."

He frowned, "You sound just like Lissa... her 'pranks' are becoming increasingly less creative. Mostly, she just injures me now."

"Well, that makes me at least a slightly better alternative, doesn't it?" she grinned.

"Just barely," he acquiesced. They chuckled a moment between themselves, then Robin sighed, "You know, you could have just told me what you were doing and I would have played along."

"Yeah, but where's the fun in that?" she shrugged.

"Maybe in the two of us duping our victims at double convincing-ness," he supposed.

"Hmm," she put her index finger to her chin, "Now you've got me all curious."

"You're doing it again," he indicated.

"Shut up," she laughed.

* * *

"Oh, it wasn't that embarrassing," she said as she sat down. Robin frowned as she wrinkled the blanket.

"You don't think so?" he cocked an eyebrow, "Tell me, do you still find that 'the thought of me makes you come?'"

"I don't sound like that," she grumbled, "And maybe it does. You are my big, strong husband now, after all."

"Good answer," he kissed her on the cheek.

"I'm chock-full of 'em," she thumbed at herself proudly, "A merchant's gotta know the right thing to say to any customer."

"Even if that means telling them-"

"All right, all right," she hushed him, "don't wear it out. My good graces only last so long, pal."

"Fine," he smiled, "Did you put Steven back down for his nap?" She nodded. "Well, then," he cleared his throat, "To answer your question, I have been thinking about you all day." She giggled.

The little redhead's footsteps traipsed slowly into the house.


	25. Audit

"I'm going to miss them," the little redhead complained, now staring at her father.

"I would have liked to get to know them better, too," he nodded, "but they've their own affairs they must see to. In the meantime, however, we can persist as a family, just the way we did before they arrived, no?"

"Of course," Morgan smiled.

"Your eyes belie your smile, my dear," he noted, staring back, "I know that look all too well from your mother: you're not really happy yet, are you?"

"...I don't mean to seem ungrateful," she sighed, "I was just thankful to find I had brothers and a sister, but now, all of a sudden... I feel alone again."

"Alone?" the pair craned their necks as Anna chimed in, drifting into the room, "I should hardly think so. You've got your father and I, haven't you? Or are we not good enough company?"

"No, no," she insisted, "I meant what I said... I just... you know... I love you guys to death, but our... unique situation means I don't have a lot of friends my age. Those friends that I do have I can only meet every once in a blue moon."

"Isolation can be difficult, can't it?" her father chuckled, "No matter how close the others are, you'll always feel a mile away."

She lifted her head and her eyes sparkled, "That... that's it exactly. How did you come up with that?"

"Morgan," he grinned with a grandiose inhalation, "you're more like your father than you know."

"Does this mean I can hear another story?" she bounced, "I've been waiting to hear another for a while now."

The merchant nodded at her husband, "Yeah, is there something you'd like to share, Robin?"

"You know this one," he determined.

She shrugged, "I don't remember whatever it is you're getting at. Refresh my memory."

"Sheesh," he sighed, "can't count on anyone to remember anything that matters. It's a wonder you manage a business."

"Uh-huh," she leered at him, "Do you feel you have your own boot lodged squarely enough in your mouth, or would you prefer to try mine?"

"I plead entrapment," he put a hand over his chest, "Now, if you'll stop chiding me for providing you with your free entertainment for the day..."

* * *

"Do you think he'll be all right?" the young lord furrowed his brow. This was the wrong time for this sort of thing.

"Heck, I dunno," his sister shrugged, "He was pretty bad, and we don't have the proper sort of staves to treat this kind of thing."

"You 'dunno?!'" he growled, "Lissa, for gods' sakes, I can understand having bad news but could you be a little less condescending and casual about it?!"

"What do you want me to do?" she pushed back, "I can't make it any better! You're already panicking!"

"Lissa, come quickly!" begged a voice from within the medical tent, "His eyes are open."

The prince stepped in front of his sister, walking hurriedly to the side of his chief strategist, "Robin, are you okay?"

"F-Fine," he struggled.

"What in hell were you thinking, pulling a stunt like that?" the blue-haired royal demanded.

"We needed to perform some reconnaissance," the tactician explained as to a child, "No one else could do it, so, I sort of... took charge."

"Well 'taking charge' had you wrestling with death for three days straight! Did you consider that when you set out?" he barked.

"I just thought..." his voice wavered, "No, never mind. No, I wasn't thinking."

"Damn right you weren't," the prince sighed, "Please, for my sake, be more careful, all right? I couldn't stand to lose any of my friends, you most especially."

"Yes, sir," he bowed, "I'm sorry, sir."

"Not 'sir,'" Chrom insisted, "I'm not ordering you not to die, I'm praying that you don't, as a friend."

"Right," the tactician rolled over, "Sorry, I'm just... tired."

"Fine, get some rest," the lord concluded, turning out on his heel, "Gods, sitting out in the rain for five hours and you didn't expect to have a problem?"

Lissa watched her brother leave, then leaned over her patient, "He's got a point, you know. What were you doing like that all by yourself?"

"The same thing I always am, it's just that someone happened to notice this time," he thought, stuffing his head into his pillow.

* * *

"I just don't understand it," the prince growled, "He's a smart man, anyone with eyes could see that, but he acts so damnably stupid sometimes."

"What'd he do?" the woman took a sip from her cup.

"Left without telling me to go perform what he called 'reconnaissance,'" Chrom scoffed, "He was just sitting on some parlous cliff in the pouring rain. He caught pneumonia, sitting out there. What a fool! It was downright childish!"

The redhead's ponytail bobbed and her eyes widened as she received an idea and glanced slightly to the side. "That's tough. Some guy," she commented idly.

"Quite," the sapphire-haired man stood and stretched, shaking his head in a minute and dismissive manner, "At any rate, I have some business I must attend to. Thank you for listening."

"Any time," she smiled up at him. She looked back down and lifted the cup back to her lips.

Chrom parted the tent flap and marched out. He paused and turned on his heel, "Oh, and Anna?"

"Yes?" he heard the cup being set down hastily.

"I need you to move your belongings to a different tent for a while. We've had to make some cutbacks. Frederick will be by in a bit to show you where," he announced.

She sighed and cursed him under her breath. Did he really think it was so easy for a merchant to just pack up all her stuff and get out of the way? He was lucky she was an expert. "All right," she groaned a bit.

He shrugged her impertinence off; she was probably busy. At any rate, the prince knew he needed to take control of the situation with which he had been presented, and so made his way back to the medical tent for one last word.

"Back so soon?" the tactician was already up and spooning some steaming broth into his mouth.

"I don't want you to make this a habit, Robin," he commanded sternly.

"No promises," the young man smirked.

"Be serious for a moment," his commander insisted, "You had me decidedly worried that our company would be without a strategist, and even more so that I was about to lose a friend. You push yourself too hard sometimes, Robin, and you're sometimes too quick to take risks upon yourself. Why the rash hedonism?"

"I'm not sure I know what you mean," the tactician admitted, scratching his head.

"Don't worry about it," Chrom sighed, rubbing his eyes, "I just want you to be more careful. That's why I'm having you take the day off."

"Day off?" he repeated, the words sliding off his tongue as if placed there by someone else.

"That's right," he nodded, "No working for the rest of the day. If I see you doing anything strategy related, I'll have Frederick bind you to your cot."

Robin swallowed and shifted uncomfortably at the thought, "Understood."

"Good," Chrom folded his arms, "You're dismissed. You can go back to your own tent now, Lissa approved it."

He rose from the linen and stretched his legs first, followed by his arms and grabbed the still-steaming bowl, carrying it with him, "Thank goodness. I was about to fall asleep again."

* * *

"I assume this means you have your work cut out for you," the knight supposed, bowing his head. It sounded sarcastic, but there wasn't a hint of humor on his face, as per the usual.

Anna was less conciliatory of her feelings, "No kidding." The merchant hung her head; moving all that inventory would take hours! Hours in the hot sun and humid air with bugs all around, and so much heavy lifting... She was almost too sick to begin. Then a thought came into her head: sick. Robin had been ill with pneumonia, as Chrom had told her. She didn't want to work and this might be her first chance to speak to the Shepherds' enigmatic tactician since they had shared that rather odd lunch in the mess one afternoon. Perfect timing. She was already outside and so walked briskly to the temporary residence of the odd young man, finding the tent with ease. "Excuse me," she called moderately from outside, "may I come in?"

"Uh, who is it?" she heard him cough back. There was lethargy about his voice.

"Anna. Remember me?" she hoped.

"Oh, sure," he seemed gladdened, "Anna. Yes, come right in."

She parted the flap and stepped inside carefully, searching the room quickly. She found the young man on his cot, his nose stuck in a book that was propped lazily upon his chest. His knees were bent and his feet moved idly: he was bored out of his mind. Perfect.

"Say, I just realized," he picked his head up out of the text, "you asked permission before entering. This is a first."

He remembered her, all right, "Very funny. I see you're mixing it up, too... Oh, wait, no, you're doing the exact same thing I see you do every day."

"There's comfort in monotony," he shrugged, "Keeping things running the same is kind of my thing."

"I don't see any battle plans," she scanned his desk.

"No, not today," he provided, "I'm busy with other affairs today."

"Oh?" she looked around the room sarcastically, "And what might those be?"

"Well, at present I'm doing my best to entertain a fool," he smirked.

"Ha," she laughed without humor, "Well, if your 'other affairs' don't already have you swamped, I was wondering if you'd be willing to do me a favor."

"I suppose," he stood up from his cot, "What do you need?"

"I've got a ton of inventory to transport today," she frowned, letting a lock of her hair droop onto her face as her entire countenance sank, "and there's so much heavy stuff... A girl can't be asked to carry all that on her own, can she?"

"No, but why should that bother you?" he cocked an eyebrow. She stared daggers at him, looking well prepared to throw a punch. The tactician put his hands out, "Because you handle that stuff all the time, I mean!"

She calmed down and folded her arms, "Yeah, but all in one day? That's a whole lot of moving, buddy."

"Perhaps so," he contributed uselessly, "All right, then. I'll help."

"Oh, thanks, Robin," she smiled sweetly, "that's very kind. Come, we'll get started right away!"

The redhead took them both quickly back to where her tent currentlt rested. Robin's face fell immediately on seeing the pile of goods he would be helping to move to the tent at the other end of camp. He grimaced as he was instructed to begin with a large oak crate that was barely held together with rusted nails, was as large as his entire torso, and seemed quite prone to splintering. He sighed and shrugged as he hefted the massive object and began trudging to where Anna directed him.

"I heard about your little illness," she mentioned as they hit a straightaway.

"Oh? I didn't think anyone other than Chrom knew," he mused.

"He was kind of venting to me," the merchant elaborated.

"I see," he concluded.

She looked over at the tactician, "Why were you out in the rain like that?"

"Scouting. No one else was willing," his tone relayed that he was already fatigued of talking about the subject.

"But why by yourself?" she pressed.

"That's how I do most everything," Robin shrugged.

"That can't be true," she stopped in place, "Well, you do your planning alone, sure, but when you cook... No... Um, on laundry days, don't you... No, that was that manakete girl... What about inventory management? I know... No, that was Chrom I helped..." The merchant remained silent another minute before finally spitting, "I'll be damned." He was still walking, forcing Anna to rush to catch back up to him, "Hey, wait up! Why is it you do stuff all alone, then?"

"I'm used to it, I suppose," he guessed dryly, undistracted.

She stared at him, walking alongside him slowly. Anna furrowed her brow.

An hour had passed with few words between the pair as Robin continued to carry bunch after much of miscellaneous paraphernalia to the faraway tent with, to his credit, never so much as a vocal complaint to his taskmaster.

Anna glanced back over at him as he was carrying a basket of ripe apples in each hand, moving at a steady pace.

"Ohmigosh!" came an excited voice from within the camp, "Those apples! They look amazing! Can I have one?"

Anna looked back forward and saw the blonde princess sidle up to the tactician. She halted her, "Sorry, kiddo, but if you want one of those, it'll cost ya."

Her brother moved out from the same general area as from whence Lissa had emerged, sighing in frustration, "Lissa, what have I told you about leaving while I'm in the middle of talking?"

"But, Chrom..." she sighed meekly, rubbing her shoulder, "the apples..."

"...They do look appetizing," he admitted with a small smile.

"Two gold each," Anna held up her fingers before the prince.

Chrom's smile faded. His sister stuck out her bottom lip, "Chrom... please?"

"Fine," he resigned with a shrug, handing the coins to Anna, "Sorry to hold you up, Robin. Sisters, you know how they can be... Or, perhaps you don't..." The blue-haired man trailed off, "Er, you know what I mean. Sorry. Let's go, Lissa."

"Bye Anna, Robin!" she waved as she was led away by the arm by her now red-faced brother.

Anna watched her companion's eyes carefully as he paused in the road a moment before continuing.

The day continued to move slowly as Robin made return trip after return trip to Anna's tent and carried away the seemingly limitless stock she had prepared for her shop. The fatigue of the moving was not lost on Robin, and Anna could see the exhaustion painted on his face despite a visible effort to conceal it. After hours of rote transportation, the task was finally complete and all the inventory had been moved to its new home. Anna stood and wiped her brow, pleased to be finished. The tactician seemed to have something to say to that gesture, but restrained himself. It had been close to noon when they began, and now the sun was already flirting with the horizon, releasing a yawn of its own sort.

"Thank you," she declared earnestly, "I know that was no picnic."

"Happy to help," he assured her, taking a seat on the ground.

"You okay?" she offered affably.

"Fine, thanks," he decided.

Anna looked toward the back of the camp, "Can I get you something to eat or drink?"

He shook his head, "No, that's all right. But..."

"Go ahead," the merchant encouraged.

He looked to either side and exhaled, "Do you mind if I just... you know, rest a moment?"

"By all means," she nodded, "You can use my cot if you need a little nap."

He stroked the back of his neck nervously, "Well, since you offered..." The tactician crawled over to the small, white, plushy rectangle that sat in the corner of the tent, laying himself down with a sigh of relief. Anna crossed her legs and sat beside his head. "Um, what are you doing?" he opened one eye.

"Nothing, just... relax, okay," she defended, rubbing his shoulder lightly, "sport?"

"What did you just call me?" he looked up once more.

"Just shut it and nap," she insisted, "Never mind me." The redhead removed her hand and let her guest settle in a moment as he turned and grabbed her little pillow, yawning broadly and then, eventually, becoming silent altogether. She tested the waters by pressing her hand to his back. When he did not stir, she smiled and stroked his hair gently, "Oh, Robin... you're not so intangible as you might think. I can read you like a book. You'd never tell Chrom or the others, of course, but, I wonder, would you tell me?" He shifted in his sleep. Anna leaned back. She would have her answer.

* * *

Robin stirred. Crickets were the first recognizable sound that rang in his ear. He couldn't believe it was already that late. The tactician sat up hurriedly.

"Whoa, easy there," chuckled a voice as a palm held back his chest. Anna sat across from him and smiled.

"Sorry," he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, "I've overstayed my welcome."

"Not at all," she assured, "Robin, can I ask you something?"

"All right," he nodded.

"What do you remember about your mother?" she smiled slyly.

"Nothing much," he shrugged flatly, looking away.

"Or what about your father?" the redhead supposed.

"Perhaps even less," he scowled, "Why are you asking, Anna?"

"You've had me concerned all day, mister," she pointed at him accusingly, "but I've gotten to the heart of it now."

"Oh?" he cocked an eyebrow, "And what did the great Sage Anna glean about her humble subject?"

"I know why you've been sitting out by yourself all the time," she touted.

"I told you, it's just what I'm used to," he dismissed.

"Exactly," she nodded, "You can keep up the hard-nosed air as long as you like, tactician-boy, but I know the truth."

"And, pray, what is the truth?" he asked, throat strained by irritation.

"You stay by yourself all day and night because you don't want mommy and daddy to think you've abandoned them. You want to distance yourself from everyone so you can feel accepted by them if you find them," she giggled softly, "Face it, big guy, underneath that tough face you like to wear and that sophisticated parlance, you're nothing more than a boy who's lost his parents in the marketplace."

"Hilarious," he scowled, "now, if you'll just..."

"Siddown, Mr. Grumpy," she laughed as she grabbed him by the sleeve, "I'm not making fun of you, I think it's kinda cute... I mean, endearing. And that's why..." Anna draped her arms around the young man and embraced him. "Robin, I know it's not quite the same, but... You know, I feel like you and I are on the same page, which, in my book, makes us as good as related."

"Anna..." his face strained in resistance.

"And just because you came to us out of nowhere doesn't mean you have to stay there. ...I'll be your family, Robin," she smiled, "I don't have any of my sisters around, so maybe you can be my little brother."

"Little?" he picked his head up.

"Well, yeah," she nodded, as if it was obvious, "I'm the one who's been keeping you stable with all the emotional support. I take care of you more than anyone around here, I think."

"So your 'little' brother is the one who moved your entire stock without you lifting a finger?" Robin cocked an eyebrow.

"Hey," she protested, crossing her arms, "I helped."

"When?" he laughed.

"You know," Anna glanced to each side and chuckled, "I... supervised. Facilitated."

"Uh-huh," the tactician laughed, "why don't you go facilitate this?" He lobbed a soft white garment over at the merchant. It caught her by surprise and blinded her, causing her to fall over.

"You are so dead!" she called playfully, ripping it off, "Get over here, twerp!"

He continued to laugh, "No way! You're going down!" The redhead tackled the tactician to the floor and they collapsed into giggling at their own antics.

* * *

"Aw, mom," Morgan flashed a row of bright white teeth, "that was so sweet!"

"I just figured I owed him for helping me move," she shrugged.

"And now we are proper family," Robin chuckled, "It's funny how things work out, isn't it, dear?"

"Yep. World's full of funny little coincidences," the redhead nodded, "You know what's not funny, though?"

Her husband noticed it, "Hungry babies?"

"Ding," she smiled, putting her index finger over her nose.

"This means I have to get up again, doesn't it?" the former tactician sighed, pushing himself from the chair.

"It's just for a minute, you big whiner," she pushed his back.

He groaned ironically and got up, "Mm-hm... C'mon Morgan."

"No, hold up," she halted him, "Morgan should hang around. She needs to learn a thing or two."

"Anna?" Robin cocked an eyebrow.

"I mean it," she bowed her head, "Morgan's at that age. She needs to learn how this sort of stuff works. It's how my mom showed me."

"Your mom taught you about the facts of life by making you sit around while she breastfed one of your siblings?" her husband laughed.

"Look," Anna provided, "she was an old fashion kinda woman... It's not important. Morgan just needs to learn, okay?"

He shrugged, "In this subject, I have no qualms about saying you'd make a much better teacher than me." He glanced over at the little redhead, who seemed more than a little confused, "Make sure you ask your mom every little question about how a woman's body works that you can think of, honey, because only she can tell you."

"Right," the girl nodded, walking over to her mother's side as her father drifted out, "So, mother, I noticed I'm not quite as... er, robust as you, so, when do you think...?"

"Morgan, sweetie," her mother sighed, "please not now." Robin stifled a laugh

* * *

"I know it wasn't easy," the silver-haired man noted.

"It's... No, it's better for her this way," his younger brother admitted.

"You still think about it, I'm sure," Steven trailed his hand along the old table.

"It's hard not to," the assassin agreed, "but I'm more surprised it wasn't you who did it. You were cognizant enough to understand all of it, to feel what was happening."

"Perhaps that's what made the difference," the orator conjectured, "I was avowed of my senses enough to accept it. You were only presented with the fact when it was slated to be the most painful."

Leo hesitated a moment, staring down, "Do... Do you still remember it? What it was like?"

"I don't believe I could wash that stain from my mind if I tried," the silver-haired man smiled wryly. The smile dropped into a scowl, "It was horrible. There was all that blood, and mother... mother was screaming so loudly... I just dove into a corner and covered my ears. I tries to block it out, but nothing could stop the sound from reaching my ears..." The young man's eyes narrowed, "It was as if someone was playing the sound right in my ears. No matter where I went, all I could head was her screaming. When that baby was delivered, I wanted nothing to do with it."

"Maybe we weren't so different at that moment," Leo glanced up at his brother.

He nodded deferentially, "I most certainly had my moments. When I was told the news, well... I don't know that I was surprised, but I just felt cold, like nothing was meaningful anymore... I wanted to crawl into a hole and die. I felt like someone had wedged a knife in my heart that I couldn't remove."

"What changed?" the man with the auburn hair pressed.

"That baby girl who had reviled me before... I was shown her face, and I saw she wasn't a monster. No, she was a regular baby girl. And when father told me he trusted me to take care of her, as well as you and Sylvia, well... There was no way I could hate that little girl. I'm sorry you felt differently."

"No use getting into it," the assassin breathed, "The past is in the past."

But as vividly as Steven had recalled his own trauma, the image of Leo exacting the strength of his impulse on the girl would never disappear from his mind.

_"Leo?" she halted him, drawling the way she always had, taking too much after her sister, "I wanna know, are we... square?"_

_"No, we are not 'square!'" he growled._

_"I've tried to be reasonable with you, Leo, really I have, but what more do you want from me?" she threw up her arms, "What can I do?"_

_"You can disappear!" he growled, throwing out his fist._

_It took almost a full minute to register what he had just done. There was a red, ovular mark on the girl's forehead. It bled slightly. She neither groaned nor moved, only lay in the grass, flat on her back. The assassin gazed down at his hands. No time for second thoughts, it was done. He needed to run, and so he did, to the gate with his brother and twin sister, leaving the little redhead abandoned in the ocean of green._

"Steve, Leo, you ready?" their sister beckoned.

"Coming, Sylvie," the silver-haired man stood, "Leo?"

"I'll just be a minute," he provided, staring at the table. He reached into his pocket, retrieving the item he had so long stored there: a red scarf. The young man with the auburn hair dropped the article on the table.

"Morgan... Au revoir."


	26. Derivative

The little bundle burped softly. "There's a good boy," his mother cooed.

"Is everyone decent?" the former tactician asked from the hallway.

"Yes, dear," his wife replied melodically, prompting him to enter.

Robin walked up to his wife to glance down at the newborn, smiling as he looked the boy over. As he lifted his head, he found his daughter sitting on the sofa with a muddled expression on her face, "Something the matter, Morgan?"

"That's why I bleed every so often?" she muttered disgustedly to herself, "I thought it was, like, a curse, or something..."

"Nope," her mother sighed, "It's something every woman goes through."

"I take it this means enough information was shared?" Robin smirked.

"Perhaps a bit too much," Morgan stuck her tongue out, "I don't think I'm going to be able to eat lunch now. How can you even bring yourself to talk about stuff like that around me, mom?"

"Well, I'm not your father," she leered at him, "I know that the only way things get done sometimes is just by being blunt. This is a good example. I'd rather you be grossed out than mis- or under-informed."

"Father," she looked up with wounded eyes, "can we sit down and study some more battle strategies later?"

"Sure," he grinned.

"Thanks," she held her face back, "I think I'm gonna go... I dunno, vomit, or something." The little redhead hurried out of the room.

"Now look what you've done," Robin smiled at his wife.

"Everything can't be all fun and games for her; she had to learn sometime," the merchant shrugged.

"Still," he glanced back at the door, "I don't think I've ever seen the poor girl look so green."

"It's not pretty, but the truth rarely is," Anna hooked her arm around her husband, "that sounds like something you'd say, doesn't it?"

"I suppose," he pecked her on the cheek. "So, any big plans for today?" he wondered with an exhale, taking a seat.

"I was gonna lay Steven down for a little nap, and then..." she tapped her index finger on her cheek, "I thought I might go into the capital for a little while, see where the trends are going."

"You thinking of reopening the shop?" he raised an eyebrow.

"Don't get me wrong," she smiled knowingly, "Being a mother is my most important job, but I fope you don't blame me for saying that it's hardly the most entertaining."

"No?" he chuckled, "Here I thought babies were all kinds of entertainment."

"All the wrong kinds," she grimaced, "anyway... Does that idea bother you?"

"Of course not," he shook his head, "you're free to do as you please, Anna. I may just have to stick around to keep him in check, eh?"

"Yeah, rather than sitting around all day like a lout," she jabbed him with her elbow.

"As you recall, that was as a result of a sudden fainting spell and a desire to remain around you while you were giving birth," he defended, "would you have prefered I ignore that obligation?"

"I'm only pulling your leg, honey," she kissed his cheek, "I'd love it if you wouldn't mind keeping an eye on him while I work."

"Or maybe Morgan could babysit every now and again," he guessed.

"Please don't say 'baby,'" the little redhead's voice groaned from the other hallway. She was near the lavatory.

* * *

Ylisstol's castle town was as lively as ever when the group appeared at its gate, walking in together as the sun baked the cobblestone streets. Noise clouded every streetcorner, various merchants shouting, neighbors conversing, and horses neighing and whinnying at the commands of their holders. Morgan had to be dragged along as she hopped from one store to the next, staring at anything remotely shiny, or that happened to catch her fluctuating interests. More than once, Robin had been forced to open his wallet to get the little redhead back on the move along with them. Anna didn't mind her daughter's curiosity, however, as it provided her an opportunity to look around the stores that were more relevant to her financial interests while her husband wrestled to move the girl along like a disobedient dog on a nonexistent leash. After a few short hours of wandering the streets, the trio eventually decided to settle down in a cafe to relax for a moment before continuing. Robin and Anna sat facing one another, chuckling as their daughter pushed a chair in between them on a different side of the table, clambering up in it and leaning forward to assert her presence. "You know," the girl began, looking to the side and twiddling her thumbs, "I think this is the first time I've been out to eat with both of you at the same time."

"Is that right?" her mother wondered aloud.

"It's okay, though," she consoled to no one in particular, "I get how it is. I don't wanna spoil your dates."

"I hadn't really thought about it," Robin shrugged, taking a sip of tea.

"I know," his daughter persisted, "because you were too busy thinking about what's right in front of you."

"Maybe so," he smiled gently at his daughter.

"But now I'm here, so it's whole-family-date-time!" she announced, hooking her arms around both of their necks and pulling them closer.

"Is it?" her father choked, "I didn't see the flier."

"Oh, don't be silly, father," she scolded, letting them both go, "Now, treat me like a date! I want expensive food! And wine, lots of it!"

"A lady has to be a bit more subtle about her desires," Anna rested her hand on her daughter's head, "You'll never get what you want by being so direct."

"...Please?" Morgan guessed, folding her arms at her father.

"That only works on your dad," Anna smiled, "You have to be a little more creative."

Morgan stared at the table in thought, "Uh, gee, I sure am thirsty. And, uh, I just can't relax... I really wish I could settle down a little..."

"That's better..." her mother began.

"...But you're still not drinking any wine," her father concluded.

"Well, at least tell me how pretty I look," a dissatisfied Morgan demanded.

"Morgan, honey, you know your father thinks you're the most beautiful girl in the world," he stroked her hair.

"Moreso than mom?" she giggled, "She's sitting right there, you know."

"Ah, but your mother's not a girl," he grinned, "she's a woman."

"And the prettiest woman you know, is what I hope you were about to say," she leered at her husband.

"Naturally," he bowed his head.

"Well, but I'll be a woman someday," Morgan realized, "What will you think then?"

He paused and cocked an eyebrow, then draped an arm around his daughter's back, "It doesn't matter, sweetheart, because no matter how old you get, you'll always be my little girl."

"Aw, daddy," she stuck her tongue out, "that's so lame."

"Well, it's the truth," he shrugged, "Now, would you like some coffee, like your mother?"

The little redhead glanced over at her mother, who was taking a sip and staring right back, "Um, sure. I suppose I'll have some."

"How do you take it?" her mother asked, grabbing the steaming pot that sat on the table with them.

Morgan cocked an eyebrow, "Uh, with my hands?"

Anna and her husband exchanged glances as well as laughs. "What your mother means is, do you want any milk or sugar in your coffee?" Robin leaned toward her.

"Well, what a silly way to ask that," she blushed, folding her arms, "Um, how do you normally take it, mom?"

"Missionary," her father mumbled, leering at his wife, amsused by his own joke.

"Don't make me pour this on your lap," the redhead swung the pot in his direction. He held up his hands in a display of innocence. "Your mom likes some milk, and one sugar."

"Then that's how I'll try it," Morgan decided.

"Okay," her mother smiled sweetly as she filled the remainder of the small china cup with milk and dropped a cube of sugar into it, "Take this spoon and stir the sugar around, then give it a taste."

The little redhead took a moment to do as she was instructed, then lifted the china to her lips. Her eyes narrowed as she swallowed, "OW! Hot!" She brought up her hand and fanned her tongue.

"I didn't think I needed to warn you about that," her mother rolled her eyes, "Just blow on it and try it again."

Morgan leered warily at her mother, then did as she was told again. She lifted the cup more gingerly this time and sipped from it with supreme delicacy. She still grimaced, however, "Uck, it's all bitter."

"That's sort of how coffee is, hon," her mother explained.

"Well, then I think I'll pass," she set the cup down, "All I can taste is hot water and a burnt tongue."

"You sound just like your father," the merchant sighed as she pulled the cup away.

"I don't care for the taste of it, either," he nodded at his daughter, "That's why I'm drinking tea."

"Can I try some?" Morgan hoped, suddenly reinvigorated.

"Sure," he offered her his cup.

She took it and sipped from it carefully, "Ooh, it tastes sort of sweet. And a little minty."

"Spearmint tea," he explained, taking his cup back, "it's always been my favorite."

As the group wrapped up their beverage discussion, they paid and left the corner cafe, heading back out into the streets. Before Morgan could tear off again, her mother caught her by the collar and suggested they head up to the castle to see how Chrom had been doing. Robin shrugged his consent to the idea and the trio began making their way up to the massive structure. Fortunately, the castle itself was no more than fifteen minutes' walk from the marketplace, and the group were recognized by the guard immediately and allowed to enter. The group, however, was greeted by an empty throne, hearing some commotion in one of the other rooms of the castle.

Presently, Olivia stuttered out of the door, letting the noise reverberate off the walls. She noticed their guests, "Oh, Robin, Anna, Morgan! M-Make yourselves at home, please!"

"Who's there?" the trio heard Chrom call out from the other room, that notion further supported as he followed his wife out of it, "Oh, gods, Robin! I didn't expect to see you or your family today."

"Sorry to drop in unannounced," the former tactician rubbed the back of his head.

"We were just in town and figured we'd pay you guys a visit," Anna offered.

"Oh, well," he sighed, fixing his hair, "don't be a stranger, sit. Would you like something to eat or drink?"

"We just ate, thanks," Robin declined, "Are we interrupting something, Chrom?"

The exalt's eyes shifted to his wife, "Er, no, we're fine, I was just-"

"You can tell them, Chrom," the rose-haired woman hid her face.

"Are you sure?" he wondered, drawing closer.

"It's... okay..." they could see her blushing, further concealing herself, "I trust them..."

Chrom's eyes shifted around the room before he strode up to within arm's length of the former tactician and his family, "W-Well... Olivia's pregnant again."

"Ohmigosh, really?!" Morgan leapt.

"Morgan!" her father hushed her with a glare.

"Sorry," she shrunk.

"Chrom, that's fantastic," his friend smiled, "congratulations."

"Thank you," he bowed earnestly, "but I don't think Olivia's anywhere near as excited about it, and, frankly, I don't blame her." Robin now noticed the rose-haired woman's arms were clenched protectively around her stomach.

"Tell her to drop by anytime," Anna smiled at the exalt.

"I'll do that," he nodded.

"Daddy!" there came an excited yell from the room from which both Olivia and her husband had emerged. A small mop of sapphire hair adhesed to the exalt's leg.

"Beg your pardon," he glanced down, "Some girls are being very bad, because they know they're supposed to be napping." He picked the girl up and held her in his arms.

"No nap! No wanna nap!" she protested, blowing a raspberry and giggling at her father.

"My, how you've grown, Lucina," Anna admired as she and her husband gazed lovingly at the infant.

She shriveled a little at their gaze, and tucked herself into her father. "It's all right, Lucina," her father assuaged, "you may not remember them much, but Robin and Anna have been friends of your father since before you were born. You've seen them before. "

The girl craned her neck back out and stared closely at the couple, trying to ascertain whether or not her father was telling the truth. "Wo-bin. An-na," she sounded their names out.

"That's right," Anna cooed, "Hi there, sweetie."

"An-na?" the girl said again, looking to her father to check if she was correct. He nodded.

"Yes, my name is Anna," the redhead agreed, bending over slightly to match the infant's eye level.

"Anna," the girl pointed to reassure herself, "Hi."

"Good girl," her father praised, stroking her hair, "and who's this?" The exalt pivoted to face his former tactician.

"Wo-Wobin," she guessed.

"That's right," he nodded, "excellent, dear."

"Daddy... fwend?" she looked at Robin carefully.

"Talk like a big girl, honey," her father encouraged.

"You..." she continued to stare at Robin, "fwends wi-wi-with daddy?"

"That's right," Robin nodded, "Your father and I are good friends."

"The best," Chrom nodded over his daughter's shoulder, "Be nice to Robin and Anna, okay, Lucina?"

"Nice," she smiled broadly, "Anna, Wobin... Wuv you!" The girl waved at them both.

Chrom chuckled, "That's how we tell her to say goodbye to mommy or daddy."

"You're a very smart little girl, Lucina," Robin lauded.

"Wobin nice," she commented.

"Okay, now it's time for little princesses to get back to naptime," he whirled her away.

"Aw, daddy," she complained, "no nap."

"Come on, sweetie, you need to rest," he carried her off.

"Bye-bye, Wobin, Anna!" she waved again.

"Why didn't I get to see her?" Morgan pouted.

"We don't need to confuse the poor girl," Anna patted her daughter's back, "It might not occur to her right now, but if she sees you she might start asking questions down the road, and that opens up a whole other kettle of fish."

"I guess," she muttered.

"If you want to play around with a baby, your brother is always at home," Robin smirked.

"But he's not as cute as tiny Lucina!" Morgan complained.

A set of footsteps trailed down a nearby staircase. Lucina stared at the assembled family, "Is she... that is, am I laid down for my nap? Gods, this is confusing."

"Yes," Robin nodded, "We just had the honor of conversing with you. I didn't know you were such a cute child."

The girl with the sapphire hair laughed gently, "She's been born into a world of peace. She deserves to get to be cute. That's her real birthright, not this blade." Lucina glanced down at Falchion, balanced in its sheath.

"Some inheritances we'd rather be without," Robin concurred with a knowing grin.

"As we both know better than any, Robin," she nodded, reciprocating, "Before I leave... I want to apologize."

"Leave?" Robin cocked an eyebrow.

"Come now, Robin, you knew this would come. I can't very well live with my parents while my infant self begins to learn and speak. What would happen if she saw me?" the princess shrugged, "But that's a discussion for a later time. Right now, I just want to say that I'm sorry... for ever doubting you."

"It's all right," Robin mused.

"It is?" her face strained, "I mean, I'm grateful for your forgiveness, but... I did threaten you with death... Why are you so quick to bury that hatchet? In your position, I'd still find it perfectly reasonable to hold a grudge."

"Believe it or not, Lucina, your challenge gave me..." he paused and turned to his wife, "Gave us both the conviction we needed to finally defeat Grima. As you'll recall..."

* * *

The tactician sat, head folded into and resting in his palm. He stared idly at the ground and refused to speak. Today had been one of their greatest losses, and it was completely a moral defeat. Validar now had the Fire Emblem, because Robin, Chrom's most trusted ally and his incontestible tactician, had failed to resist his father's magical influence.

"Are you gonna say something, or do I have to?" his wife asked.

"What is there to say?" his head drooped, "I failed."

"Th-That... It wasn't you, Robin. Not really. You looked like a completely different person when you handed it over," she reported, recalling the unsettling way in which her husband shambled over to the dark sorcerer and the pinkish glow in his eyes.

He looked up, "What does that matter? It's my fault."

"No, Robin, you just..." she tried to formulate an excuse.

"The point is that I can be controlled, Anna," he sunk again, "What if someone directs me to hurt you, or our daughter? Whose fault will it be then, Anna?"

"You would never do that, Robin," she hoped.

"I would say the same, but as of now, I'm not so sure," he frowned, shutting his eyes.

"Robin, honey..." she began.

"Not now, Anna," he sighed, rising from his seat, "I... think I need to go for a walk, to clear my head."

She watched him with glassy eyes, "Okay. Just... don't wander off too far, all right? Be back in time for supper."

"Right," he mumbled, trudging away.

Anna resigned herself and walked off as well, heading for the mess tent, as the large canvas structure had always seemed to provide her some sort of bizarre comfort, for whatever reason. She sat at a bench and lowered her head near the table, supporting her cheeks with her open palms. Even Stahl barely touched his food as he sat in the corner. It didn't take long before Morgan had seated herself across from her mother, face more distraught than Anna could ever recall seeing. The little redhead flopped down with a simple complaint, "Mother... I don't feel well. My stomach aches."

"You might try a vulnerary, dear," her mother offered idly.

"No, I don't think that will help," she sighed, "I don't think I'm really sick, I just... feel sick."

"I understand, dear," Anna put her hand over her daughter's. She wanted to tell her that she felt the same, but didn't want to worry the child any further.

"Where has father gone? He looked pretty upset when last I saw him," the girl commented.

"He went for a walk, sweetheart," her mother replied banally.

"Oh, all right," her small eyes settled back on the table, "Perhaps I can talk to him at dinner."

"I'm sure, honey," she reached over and patted the girl's shoulder.

"I thought I might find you here," they heard a voice announce as the tent parted. Chrom walked in and joined them at their table, "This is a... difficult time for all of us."

"Robin most especially," the merchant noted.

Chrom nodded in agreement, "but he's gone off on his own, I assume. Would you ladies care to speak at all?"

The redheads said nothing and held their heads over the table, staring silently at the wood and not making any gesture towards anything else.

"How about I fetch us something small to eat, to bring our energy back up?" he offered.

"No, thanks," Morgan refused, "I feel sick to my stomach."

"I don't feel very well, either," Anna still didn't move her eyes.

The exalt took a sip of a beverage he was holding, "I've got nothing but time. I want to hear you two talk."

"I'm... worried about father," Morgan relented first, "He... didn't look right."

Chrom glanced over at Anna. She conceded, "There was something 'off' about him. I didn't like the way he looked."

The sapphire-haired man nodded, "So, you saw it, too. Something wasn't right about Robin. That couldn't really have been him handing over the Emblem."

"No," Anna shook her head, "Whoever it was... I don't know, I was frightened by how he looked, then."

"It was kinda scary," Morgan compounded.

"If Validar is really his father..." Anna sighed, "What do you suppose that means for him? He's always been a friend to us, but... I mean..."

"You have to have faith, Anna. I know he wouldn't change on us," Chrom affirmed.

"I want you to be right, Chrom. I desperately do, but..." Anna's head sank again, "Listen to me, doubting my own husband in his time of need, and yet..."

That was all the convincing Robin needed. He stood outside the tent, picking up his forgotten robes. He had thrown them off in disgust upon recognizing that they were covered in Grimleal symbols, but he had decided that it was only appropriate to wear the cloak; it was a part of him, in a way. But, to hear that his own wife now feared what he might become, or what he may do to them... That was enough. He would walk away from the Shepherds and abandon this life. His plan would carry itself out: Basilio would find Chrom at the appointed time and they would kill Validar with ease, bastard that he was. Their tactician could disappear from the history books, take himself far away from the people he feared hurting, and, perhaps, his memory would fade again, and he would forget the pain of fearing for the lives of his friends and begin anew somewhere wherein he would visit no harm.

That was a part of Lucina's intent, too, as she sidled up to the woebegone tactician. "Robin."

He pivoted in place, surprised, and apparently attempting to obscure his face, "Lucina... What are you doing out here?"

"I... wanted to talk about my father. You know him almost as well as I do, and we've spent so much time together over the past few months, it's been like a dream to me. I can see the future will be robbed of a great man," she declared with a smile.

"I understand. I want to save everyone, too," he sighed.

"Robin..." she failed to bring her sentiment to words, and simply raised Falchion in the tactician's direction.

"Lucina, what are you doing?" he watched as the golden blade shimmered in the low sunlight.

"Robin, I don't think I have to explain what I'm about to do," she stared at him defiantly from along the blade's edge.

"You want to kill me, to protect your father," he acknowledged. She nodded briefly. "I suspected as much. We've never been best friends, you and I, have we?" he smiled morosely.

"Don't try anything. I take no joy in this, I only want it to be done," she scowled.

He stared at the grass as it shivered in the wind. As the air grew quiet, he lowered himself to the grass on his knees and offered his neck, tilting his head to the side, "Then just do it."

"W-What...?" she hesitated.

"My own wife... and my daughter... they fear me now. I don't want to exist in a world where I live only as an object of fear to the ones I love," he kept his head facing the ground.

Lucina froze. She hadn't actually expected the tactician to volunteer his life in this way. What had gotten into him? Perhaps times truly had changed. She steeled her nerves and held Falchion aloft, preparing to swing it down.

"Stop!" they both turned their heads at the cry.

"Robin, you bastard, what are you doing?!" his wife charged up to him, shoving the princess out of the way.

"Anna, I'm sorry I frighten you," he shook his head, "I don't want to hurt you, or Morgan, or any of the others. This is the only way I can be sure of that."

She slapped him, "Are you kidding?! You already had my heart in my throat, looking for you out here, afraid that you were dead already, but now you want to just pick it up and break it right in front of me like that?!"

"Anna... you said you were afraid of me. I heard you, in the mess," he sighed.

She grimaced, then began more softly, "Well, I was wrong, all right? What I meant was that I was afraid of whatever was possessing you, but... I'm better than that. I'm stronger than the fear that gripped me for that one moment of weakness, aren't you?"

"I'm not sure I understand," he admitted.

"I mean that I refuse to abandon my husband to despair because of a moment's folly. I still believe in you, and love you. I swear to never leave your side, Robin, and I wish I could hear you do the same," she held him.

"Anna, I'm sorry," he flattened against her embrace, then began to shudder softly, emitting a chuckle, "I'm sorry I put you and Morgan through so much."

"You're a handful, that's for sure," she agreed, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, "but the only way to prove we're stronger than Grima... is to be stronger."

He took her hand and pushed them both up into a standing position, "And that starts with us, doesn't it?"

"The way it always has to," she smiled.

"Anna... I hope you know all that I've ever done has always been for you, even a... mistake like this," he sunk again.

"I know, Robin, I know. And I'm happy so long as I'm with you. Isn't that all the difference?" she pressed.

"Indeed," he nodded in acquiescence, "Perhaps it's precisely that sort of 'difference' we'll need to stop Grima."

"My sentiments exactly," she confirmed.

"Now that I think about it, I don't think I could go through with it," he pulled her tighter, "No matter how fearful either of us became, I don't think I could ever bring myself to part with you, my love."

She blushed, "Robin... I think that's the most romantic thing you've ever said."

"Don't get used to it," he continued in the same tone, "I only get 'em every so often."

She giggled in spite of herself, "This is why you're my husband: you can make a joke when I've pulled you back from the brink of death for, what, the twelfth time?"

"Hi, pot, I'm kettle," he leaned into her.

"Let's just go back to our daughter, okay? The other girl you love more than anything in the world?" she pulled his hand.

"Of course," he smiled more earnestly, "but, Anna... how did you know I'd be out here?"

She winked, "Call it a woman's intuition. Now, come away, and let's have a meal to sort this all out, okay?"

"Thank you, Anna," was his reply. She embraced him and leaned on his shoulder as they walked together.

Lucina recovered her footing, picking Falchion back up and sheathing it. Should she go after him? Cut down the redhead as well as her husband? Surely, she would never give him up voluntarily. Not now. But she had to protect her father, and that meant killing Robin, didn't it?

"That's not a good idea," she heard a voice declare.

She swung around to be faced with her brother, "I-Inigo! What are you doing out here?"

"Getting ready to prevent my big sister from making a big mistake," he smirked.

Lucina's eyes narrowed, "Wait, did you..."

"No, no," he assured her, "It was all 'a woman's intuition,' like she said. It's just that some women get by with a little help from their friends."

* * *

"I see," Lucina breathed as Robin finished, "Still, I don't think I could say in good conscience that I saved your marriage, or anything to that extent."

"You and father sure do have some strange ways of reassuring each other, mom," Morgan cocked an eyebrow at her mother.

"Mind your tongue, young lady," Anna chided.

"Just... be aware that things are never as bad as they seem," Robin smiled sagely, "That's more or less what I took away from that experience. I forgive you, Lucina."

"Thank you," she nodded, "now, I really must be going."

"Should I tell your father?" the former tactician wondered.

"I'll... be back. This time," she declared vaguely, turning her head back.

"Very well," he let her go.

"Augh!" Anna and Robin jumped as their daughter shouted. "Oh," she recovered, "didn't see you there. You scared me, you naughty little girl."

The infant with the sapphire hair held onto Morgan's robes, "Mow... Mow..."

"What's that you're saying?" she leaned down to the girl.

"Gin," the girl finished, "Mow-gin."

The little redhead's eyes lit up, "Yes, that's right! My name's Morgan! Mom, dad, tiny Lucina knows my name!"

The pair exchanged glances.


	27. Forfeiture

Anna sniffed the air loudly, leaning over the structure and smiling down upon it fondly, "Ah... my dear... it's been far too long." She trailed her finger along the sleek wood and sighed. Pausing a moment to glance up at the clear sky, she took another full breath and grinned broadly as she polished another section of the countertop.

"And here I wondered if you'd be excited," her husband remarked ironically, placing a crate toward the back of the stone building.

"Oh," she jumped, "D-Didn't see you there."

"How could you?" he chuckled, "You can't even see past your own nose right about now."

"I'm just trying to have a little fun," she waved him off.

"Mother, did you spill something?" her daughter wondered, holding up the tiny version of her older brother, "Or... Oh, gods, are you... drooling?"

"Tut-tut-tut," Anna hushed her daughter, placing a finger over her lips, "Mother's just happy to be back in business."

"Clearly," Robin noted again, taking Steven from his daughter.

"I just hope no one's upset with us," Anna remarked, resting her finger on her chin.

"Upset? Why would they be upset?" her husband shrugged.

"Well, they do expect my service, and I've been away much longer than is fair," the redhead sighed.

"Anna, there must be a hundred other shops out there; they could find other outlets for the same things," the former tactician reasoned.

"But they chose to come to mine," the merchant reaffirmed, "as such, I have an obligation to provide them with service in a timely manner."

"I'm sure they'll understand that events in our personal lives have made sticking to business schedules a little more difficult," Robin supposed.

"All the same," replied his wife with finality, "we have a service to provide! Now, let's get to it!"

Robin shrugged and smiled at his wife, hoisting the baby slightly further up in his grasp so that he could rest comfortably. He wouldn't dare deny his wife the excitement she derived from operating her store even so much as a moment longer. Morgan, too, was pleased to be a part of the proceedings, as she claimed she had had precious few teaching opportunities from her mother in more practical arts, unlike the philosophy and literature she was traditionally encouraged to study. Given the task, Anna was more than happy to oblige.

"Lesson one," the redheaded merchant grinned at her daughter as they stood behind the counter together, "the 'mere exposure effect': Show 'em a product often enough, and they're more likely to buy it. Watch 'n learn." As a young man sauntered up to the counter, Anna greeted him in her typical coquettish fashion: "Afternoon, handsome! What are you looking for today?"

"Oh, I dunno," he breathed, rubbing his neck, "I was lookin' for a little something to give the wife, but I can't get too pricey."

Anna's eyes glowed as she deftly swiped a velvety-soft feather from a rack and held it close to her neck, just at the man's eye level, "Well, now, how sweet. Have anything in mind?"

He shook his head, "Nah. I'm not too familiar with what ladies are all about. Got any recommendations?"

"Well, I have a few good pieces of Plegian jewelry," she suggested coyly.

He glanced toward her finger as it grazed past her shoulder and neck, "Uh, no, that's too much."

"I can find you some fresh-cut roses..." she continued, repeating the motion to make sure he was properly enthralled.

"Not quite what I had in mind..." the man denied, "Uh... say, what's that little thing you're flicking around?"

"This?" Anna asked innocently, stifling her triumphant smirk, "It's just a little trinket I like. I believe locally they're called 'Speedwings.' Made from the feathers of herons, or so I'm told."

"D'you have any of them for sale?" he wondered.

"As a matter of fact..." Anna reached beneath the counter and pulled out another, "How's twenty-five hundred gold?"

"Little on the high end," he grumbled.

"Okay," she smiled sweetly, with a hint if defeat in her voice, "you win. For you, half price."

"That's a little better," he nodded, taking the item and dropping a bag of coins on the countertop. Anna seized the bag and totaled the haul blissfully.

"Isn't 1250 gold the market price for a Speedwing, mother?" Morgan was confused, "That would mean we made no profit."

"It would if that was a real Speedwing," Anna chuckled, "That was just a pegasus feather."

"Are pegasus feathers not valuable?" her daughter remained perplexed.

"Not at all. You can find 'em as easy as those of any other bird, because they're visually indistinguishable from one another," the merchant finished, storing away her take. Another customer was approaching, so the redhead cleared her throat, "Lesson two: the 'foot in the door' technique." Anna smiled broadly at her patron and began, "Welcome! What can I getcha?"

"I run a woodcutting business," the balding, older man opposite her declared, "I'm looking for a reliable set of axes."

"Well, look no further," she assured, "What are we talking in terms of price?"

"I got enough," he decided, "but I ain't gettin' nothin' fancy if I don't hafta."

"Fair enough," she winked, "How many to a set?"

"I got seven hands," he noted.

The merchant nodded sagely, "How about a set of bronze axes, then? They'll only run you thirty-five hundred for the whole shebang."

"Sounds okay," the master woodcutter nodded, "How are they at cuttin' trees?"

"Honestly?" she looked up from her stack and made eye contact to convey her sincerity, "Well enough, but there are better. But, hey, when you gotta go cheap..."

"Hold on," her patron demanded, "I didn't say anything about goin' cheap. What else d'ya got?"

"Well..." the redhead digressed, "We could bump up to an iron set. Double the price, but more than twice as effective, I promise."

"Too much," he halted, "no way."

"Sure," she waved her hand, "no need to get crazy, huh? I can understand. You know what I can do? We can mix and match 'em, and you can give a few of the better tools to whoever you like. How's that sound?"

"What would that cost?" he cocked an eyebrow.

"Four bronze and three iron would lower it to just five thousand," Anna quickly tabulated.

"Now that's not bad..." the older man stroked his chin.

"Do the numbers work out for you? Do you need any more or fewer axes to be more efficient?" she proceeded.

"Well, o'Dandyn don't need nothin' special... 'cept his leg's gone all funny... And Lyle needs even more help than the rest of 'em..." the man thought aloud, "Uh, say, what if we just make it all iron, like ya said?"

"Can do," the redheaded merchant smiled, "I'll just need my seven thousand gold."

"Done," he nodded confidently, handing over the money, "Sometimes you just gotta make all necessary preparations, you know?"

"Absolutely," Anna replied with finality, "See you 'round. And lemme know the next time you're in the market for another set!"

Morgan watched the man walk off with a satisfied smile on his face, "You made him pay full price for something he said was too expensive."

"The exalted bloodline has a covenant with Naga; my family has our birthrights," her mother winked.

"No doubt about it, your mother can be very persuasive," her husband chuckled, sidling between them, "It worked on me."

"Pinnacle of mental fortitude that you are," she glanced back at him sarcastically.

"I'm a bit harder to fool than most," he argued with an earnest grin.

"Right..." she rolled her eyes, "Everyone else is a moron, but not you. Oh no, you're special."

"This is starting to sound like one of our premarital conversations," the former tactician noted, "and this would be the part where everyone else gathers around and eggs us on until one or both of us does something embarrassing."

"Well, we can't have that, can we?" Anna returned.

"Suppose we can't," Robin chuckled, "It wouldn't do to have little Steven be made all upset, now, would it?" The former tactician held the bundle closer to his chest.

"'Scuse me," an elderly woman interrupted them, "I was hoping to buy some of this here lemongrass and sunflower oil, if you don't mind."

"In that quantity, it'd be fifteen hundred, miss," Robin nodded at her.

"Not a chance!" she scowled.

"We can go a to a smaller bottle for half that," the former tactician held up a glass flask of the same substance.

"That... sounds more reasonable, I suppose. Still pricey," she grumbled.

"High quality ingredients such as these necessitate a little extra, madam," he bowed, "I'll guarantee you'll be pleased with the product. I know the bottler, so I can vouch for its freshness and superior aroma. Best seasoning this side of Rosanne; I use it for everything."

"All right, all right," she offered up the money, "You've sold me. Have a nice day."

"And you as well," he smiled pleasantly, taking the payment.

"That oil's not worth more than ten gold," Morgan cocked an eyebrow as the woman hobbled away.

"Lesson three: the 'door in the face' technique," her father laughed.

"You cheated a little with the familiarity endorsement," Anna folded her arms and smirked at him, "but, otherwise, as a mentor, I'm proud."

"I learned from the best," her husband shrugged, "And, I'm not gonna lie: I was a little hot for teacher." They shared a laugh.

"You two make quite the team when you want to," their daughter observed idly.

"That's what happens when two people live and work together so long," Robin replied, "You start really getting to learn how the other person thinks, how their mind works, and how they operate. Since we're old partners in war and marriage, your mother and I are so close, we could probably finish each others'..."

"Sandwiches," Anna teased, holding one next to her face, "It's close to lunchtime."

Morgan's stomach growled, "Oh, great! I didn't even realize I was getting hungry! Thanks, mom!" Her mother and father laughed again as they got out their lunches and began to eat.

"All joking aside," Robin mused between bites, "it really is good to see you doing what you love again, honey. Like an old sea captain given one more trick at the wheel. You know, for auld lang syne."

"What sign now?" she scratched her head.

"Oh, right," he stifled a laugh, "I never got around to reading that one to you..."

"Mother, question," the little redhead picked her head up from her food, bread crumbs dribbling off her lips, "Who was your first crush?"

"Sitting right here," her father exclaimed in only half-feigned injury.

Anna giggled, "Honestly, sweetie, it's been a bit too long for me to remember silly things like that. Let's just say I've always been in love with your dad and leave it at that."

"Father?" Morgan pressed.

"Oh, no," he put his hands up, "even if I did have a proper answer, I wouldn't give it now. You know how jealous your mother can be."

"I can be?" his wife scoffed, "What about you? Don't you remember..."

* * *

As the sun beat down, the tactician felt a bead of sweat slowly streak down his forehead. His opponent smiled wryly; he was losing and the other party was fully aware. He took his hand slowly upon his piece and slid it toward her. She reacted with momentary surprise, followed by a begrudging scoff, "And here I didn't think you had the chutzpah."

"I think I've shown I've got guts enough," he retorted.

"You're certainly bolder than before," she admitted, "but only when I leave myself wide open."

"Really the only way to get in," he noted, "I had to force my way through to begin with, but I think I've comfortably slipped past your walls."

"Hah," she taunted, "dream on. You fell right into my trap!"

"Gah!" he grunted, "How could I have missed that? Urgh, and the space I'm left is so tight..."

"I'm gonna squeeze the life right out of you!" she leered at him.

"D-Damn," the tactician sighed, defeated, "you win."

"Don't feel bad," she declared a little more calmly, "I enjoyed it. And, to be completely honest, you had me pretty red in the face for a while, too. I was so wound up I couldn't make a sound at one point."

"You used a cheap move," her foe complained.

"Oh, get over it. Not my fault you've got a hair trigger," she denied him.

"It's your turn to clean up, you know," the tactician instructed.

"Ugh," his opponent grumbled, "but you're always the messy one. And I won, doesn't that mean anything?"

"It means you should clean that stain off your shirt," he poked.

"Uh..." they both picked their heads up over the counter of the stall.

"Oh, hey, Gaius," Anna waved, her hair more than a little mussed up.

"You kids, uh, havin' fun down there?" the thief wondered, scratching his neck.

"I mean it," he glanced over to see Robin getting up, "I don't care much for this game; it doesn't reflect an ounce of real strategy."

"One of us found it fun," the merchant giggled.

"In real life, that move would've worked," he pressed.

"Well, in real life, one doesn't move in only four directions on an eight-by-eight grid, either," his companion folded her arms.

"Right..." the ginger-haired thief sighed.

"Anyway, what's news, G-man?" she teased, poking at him, "Something I can get for you?"

"Depends, got any new candies in, Red?" he lowered his elbow onto the countertop.

"I'm sure I've got something," she supposed, glancing to the back of the store and rooting around.

"What about you, Bubbles? What are you up to?" Gaius wondered.

The merchant couldn't stifle her laugh, "Teehee... 'Bubbles.'"

"I'm just shadowing Anna for today," the tactician replied beyond his chagrin at the nickname, "I don't have much else to do, so I was recruited."

"I see," he nodded his head.

"Ah! Here we go," Anna handed the thief a small bag of gold crystalline balls, "Rock candy, made with Ylissean honey, a little bit of a Feroxi spirit, the petals of a Chon'sin cherry blossom, and just a hint of Olivi Grass."

"Sounds killer," Gaius smiled, taking one of the sweets out of the bag and plopping it into his mouth, "Thanks, Red."

"Hey, no free rides," she held him back, "cough it up, gumdrop-breath."

"What," he smirked, "you mean you won't cut a handsome devil like me a little discount?"

"Handsome though you are," she allowed, "I need a little something more to merit a discount, else I'd go out of business. Give up the gold."

"Fine," he sighed, "just as long as you know it's all stolen."

"Not my problem," the merchant winked.

Gaius took his bag and set the money on the countertop, waving as he turned, "See you 'round, Red, Bubbles."

Anna covered her mouth again, "'Bubbles.'" Robin folded his arms at the merchant. "What?" she glanced at him, "Don't be so sensitive, it's just a nickname."

"Not that," he declared, "just... do you always have to flirt with your customers?"

"Who are you, my dad?" she chuckled at him, "What works works. I ain't one to judge if if puts money in my pocket. It's no skin off my nose."

"But, all of them?" the tactician stressed.

"You got some kinda problem?" she suspected, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're jealous..."

"Not true," he affirmed, "I'm just... you know, worried... That someone might not take it so innocently, and then when it gets dark and you're all alone, well... Y'know."

"Very considerate of you," she patted him on the back patronizingly, "but I've learned to take care of myself, thank you very much."

"I'm just saying, be careful," he muttered.

"Got it," she rolled her eyes.

Stahl drifted up to the storefront, "Afternoon, Anna."

"Stahl, sweetie," she cooed, "what can I do for you?"

"I'm just looking for a little more of that tincture you sold me the other day. For my brother, remember?" the knight explained.

"Sure, sure," she mused, going to fetch it, "And to visit a beautiful lady, right?"

"No harm in that, either," he laughed.

Anna produced the pinkish corked bottle and set it down carefully on the table, "For my loyal and good-looking customer, a mere ten gold."

"Very generous of you," he bowed, taking it and setting his payment in its place, "I tell you, the guy that gets you is one lucky fellow, Anna."

"Oh, you're too kind," she waved him off, "I bet Sully's pretty content with her choice, too. She hasn't been able to ride right in over a week. Woof."

The cavalier blushed, "Well, I can't claim full responsibility..."

The merchant wolf-whistled at him, "Even partial isn't too shabby, considering it's Sully."

Stahl laughed and rubbed his neck, "I don't know what I'd do without you there to massage my ego, Anna."

"I think for my own sake I should leave massaging anything of yours to your wife," Anna laughed in kind.

"Fair enough," the viridian knight saluted, "I'll see you later, Anna."

"What?" Anna turned around to find her companion even more disgruntled than before.

"I won't even say it," he huffed.

"Really, you're worried about me and Stahl? The married man?" she cocked an eyebrow.

Robin shrugged, "Stranger things have happened."

"Get over yourself," the ruby-haired merchant pulled the tactician's hood over his head and chuckled as he struggled briefly to pull it back down, "Come on, now. You can't honestly blame me for doing a little window shopping." Robin merely griped his disapproval.

The day passed slowly, as did the clouds, lingering gently overhead in the slight breeze that did precious little to discourage the heat of the day, causing Anna to slowly retreat into the back of her store to avoid being cooked in the inescapable daylight. Robin, too, made trips away from the constant glare of the sun, but made certain to keep eyes on the storefront, unlike the merchant herself, who had all but given up on seeing any other customers that day, declaring it "too hot to put people in a buying mood."

Eventually, however, the tactician was proven correct as the sound of boots clanking along the grass around them drove their heads out of their hiding place. The pegasus knight Cordelia waved with a bright, flashing smile at the pair, signaling her arrival.

"Probably just wants some polish for her stupid armor," Anna grumbled, "or a couple of cantaloupes to shove down her dress, that harpy."

"You seem angry," Robin smirked, "why don't you let me take this one? I'll be a more effective salesman in this case."

"The smile on your face tells me that's a ploy," she nodded at him skeptically.

"Relax, Anna," he brushed the merchant aside, "I'm just trying to bolster your haul for the day? Are you really going to try to stop me?"

The redhead was prepared to deliver a reply, however, she was cut off by the pegasus knight greeting Robin, "Robin, how nice to see you."

"You as well, Cordelia," he nodded genially, "You look positively radiant in the afternoon sun."

"Oh, stop," she covered her mouth and blushed, "your flattery will get you nowhere, young man."

"I can try," he chuckled, "And what's this 'young man' nonsense? Last I checked, we're roughly the same age."

She nodded, "I know, but I can't help but to think of you as more of a boy than a man, Robin. I hope you'll forgive the suggestion. A very cute, very sweet boy."

"Now who's the flatterer?" the tactician pointed accusatorially.

"Indeed," the pegasus knight conceded, "You've been hoisted by your own petard."

Robin laughed, "Now, with that said, what can I interest you in, my dear?"

"Perhaps a dose of whatever got you in such a mood today," Cordelia smiled in reply, "Or, if not, I was looking for a hairbrush."

"Straight away," the tactician dug into the pile, "though I'd hardly know you needed one."

She blushed again, "Robin, really, this is too much. What has gotten into you today?"

He shrugged, "Mayhap the presence of a beautiful lady has gotten me a tad excited."

"Really now, who are you and what have you done with Robin?" the woman pressed, "Does Anna have you working an angle?"

"Do you really think me so passionless?" Robin wondered ruefully, "I can't just enjoy seeing you?"

"Well..." the pegasus knight smiled more sumptuously, "If you're truly so glad to see me, I might have a little something to say about that..." She began to step closer to the countertop and lean over.

Anna had heard enough. She had been sitting and grinding her teeth, knowing exactly what the tactician had been playing at, and now burst out of the back of the shop, spreading the two apart, "That's quite enough of that. She picked up a hairbrush from a pile at her feet and lobbed it carelessly at Cordelia, "There's your brush. Now, take a hike."

"Another time, beautiful," Robin winked at the other redhead to signal her to leave, and she complied with a returned wink. As she departed, Robin faced his companion, "What? Anna, are you, perhaps, jealous?"

"You wish," she spat, "she's just... out of your league. Did you really think you had a shot? How embarrassing. For you."

"You're an awful liar when you're flustered," he scoffed, "But don't I have the right to do some... what did you call it, 'window shopping?'"

Anna growled, then shut her eyes calmly, "No, that's fine. See whoever you like. I don't care."

"Aw, all fussy now?" the tactician pressed.

"Get outta my shop. I'm done. I've got things to clear up," she pushed him aside. Her tone told Robin she was not playing; they would be taking this to a serious bet, and he would be ready.

* * *

The following morning, Anna hurried out of her tent to swing by that of a friend, the orange-haired, sweet-obsessed thief who had visited her the previous day. She lingered slowly by to determine if he was awake, then proceeded into the tent.

Gaius was pulling his shirt on, "Crivens, Red, give a guy a little warning, will ya?"

"Sorry, Gaius, although, not too bad. I could do my laundry offa those abs," the redhead giggled sensuously.

"You want somethin', Red? 'Cause, if not, you're freakin' me out a little," he remarked.

"I need a favor," she began.

"Fifty gold or one pound of milk chocolate, minimum," Gaius halted her, "Now, what's the favor?"

Anna whispered the details of her scheme into the thief's ear.

His face contorted, "A thousand gold. Or every last gummy bear you can find within a hundred square miles. Nothing less."

Anna rolled her eyes, he really was a thief, but she needed this deal. She nodded at the ginger-haired man and set out on her quest for gummy bears; she was not about to just hand a thousand gold over to a thief.

* * *

Robin was concerned about the plan. It was going to be difficult. Not enlisting her, no, she would come for certain. His concern was what would happen after he could judge whether or not his ruse had succeeded. The time for thinking ended, however, as the raven-haired girl slowly stepped out of her tent, rubbing her eyes.

"Good morning, Tharja," he greeted briskly, "I know it's a bit early for you..."

"Robin!" her eyes jumped open, "Oh, don't be silly, of course you're not too early! Do you have need of me?"

"Actually," he swallowed, "I was wondering if you'd care to accompany me on my rounds this morning."

"Of course," she clasped her hands together, "I'd be delighted. Just give me a moment to dress just a bit more modestly..."

That was something to say. Save the cloak, Tharja practically walked around in her smallclothes all day, which begged the question, what had she been wearing that was less modest than almost nothing? Robin blushed as the answer struck him, just in time for the dark mage to strut out and stand at his side with a grin. "All ready, then?" Robin offered politely.

"I'll move at your leisure," she leaned casually into the tactician's shoulder, swallowing up his arm.

To preserve the pretense, Robin went about his rounds as he normally would, walking first past Chrom's tent and saluting the prince casually as he passed by. Robin hurried along as Chrom did a double-take, eyes burning a hole through Tharja. The walk continued past Lissa's tent, nearby, and saw her react similarly, but Robin again rushed his companion out of sight before they could be questioned. Continuing down, the pair reached Panne's tent, the most separated from the remainder of the Shepherds. The taguel only sniffed the air casually as she observed them, relieving Robin by taking no interest in their affairs, though the tactician noted in his own curiosity that a sword was leaned against the wall of her tent. The pair rounded the corner of the camp and continued on past the flora that surrounded them, whereupon, against his better judgment, Robin asked, "You aren't much for talking, are you?"

"I'm sorry," she apologized, "I thought that's what you'd want, you're always so silent around camp."

"I see," he nodded, "Well, don't be sorry. Just an observation."

"I can talk more if you'd like," Tharja suggested, "Like... what's your favorite fruit?"

He shrugged, "I'm partial to apples or plums."

"No figs?" she wondered.

"What's a fig?" the tactician replied.

"Canas's cloak, this is boring," the dark mage muttered.

"Sorry, you're bored?" Robin heard her.

Tharja picked her head up and blushed, "Oh, it's not you! I just... I'm not good at small talk."

"That's fine," he smiled, deciding to contribute nothing further.

"Oh, do you know what I think would be fun?" she leaned on him more closely.

The tactician swallowed, "Do tell."

The raven-haired girl leered at him, "Let's play a guessing game: what color smallclothes do you think I'm wearing?"

"Wow," a bead of sweat appeared on Robin's forehead, "Look at the time! We should really hurry along..."

"It's a trick question," the dark mage giggled, ignoring him, "I'm not wearing any..."

"I think I liked silent Tharja better," Robin rubbed his forehead.

"Ah, look at them staring at us..." Tharja fawned, now completely deaf to her partner. She was referring to Nowi, Maribelle, and Sully, all of whom were carefully watching Robin escort the dark mage around as she clung to his sleeve like an unravelled string. "If they didn't know any better, someone might think we were a married couple, Robin."

"Us? Married? I think that's taking it a bit far, Tharja," Robin chuckled, pleading that the remark wouldn't offend her.

"I think we'd make quite a good couple," she acknowledged him for the first time, "We drive each other crazy, don't we?"

"One of us is crazy, that's for sure," her captive quipped.

"Love born on a battlefield, between two perfect strangers... That's quite a story, isn't it?" she suggested further, now ignoring him again.

"Better than the cliché of them being childhood friends who only realize their affections when it's too late, that's for certain," the tactician finally agreed.

"Say, what sort of belt is that?" Tharja fingered the leather at her companion's waist delicately, forming around its contours.

"I don't know, I had it on me when I woke up," he answered, "Do you think you could refrain from putting your hands there?"

"Let me get a better look," the young woman wove her hand into the belt and unbuckled it quickly.

Robin hastily seized his dropping pants, "Let's not do that! ...Er, maybe I can show you later."

She smiled, "Oh? Yes, somewhere more private... that would be even better... you dog."

Finally, Robin reached his destination and stood to the side slightly, pulling Tharja ever so slightly closer to him. "Well, you are quite gorgeous," he announced in a tone of voice loud enough to carry a few feet around them. He glanced over his shoulder, only to discover Anna standing at her stall, smiling at Gaius.

"Anna, I swear you're sweeter than honey," the thief declared suavely.

"Oh, Gaius, stop, you're too much," she deflected.

"What are you looking at?" Tharja commanded her companion's attention.

"Uh, nothing!" he recovered, "Nothing in the world could captivate me more than your beauty," he placed his finger carefully under her chin, forcing their eyes to meet.

Tharja blushed, "W-Well... when you put it that way, I suppose it's all right."

"Ah, you're just so handsome, Gaius," Anna leaned back, puffing out her chest, "I can hardly stand it... Will you rub my shoulders, big guy?"

"I'm thinking I need a raise," he muttered through his teeth as he stood behind the merchant and put his palms over her shoulders and against her neck and pinched them slowly.

"We'll discuss it later," she hushed him.

"Say, Tharja," Robin declared in feigned weakness, "I feel a bit of a headache coming on..."

"Oh, I've got a cool rag here," she produced a peace of ragged cloth and whispered into it before applying it to the tactician's face, "Is that better?"

"Much better," he smiled grandly.

"Oh, Gaius..." Anna continued lavishly, exaggerating her response to double the amount of syllables, "Your hands feel so good... I could imagine them all over me."

Gaius bit down on the stick of his lollipop, "Red, this is gettin' really weird..."

"Did I say 'stop?!'" she roared. His eyes widened and he set his hands back to work.

"Say, Tharja," Robin introduced again, "Remember how we were talking before?"

Her eyes lit up, "Did you have something to add?"

"I was just wondering," he put on his best sensual grin and glanced down at the dark mage, "and I want you to be completely blunt about it, what were you going to do once you got my belt off?"

"You want me to be blunt?" she smiled slyly, "I was gonna get down on the ground and suck-"

"All right, that's enough!" Anna stormed over, parting the two, "What in the hell are you trying to pull?"

"Excuse me?" he feigned ignorance.

"Don't play dumb, you jerk! You were gonna have her say that within earshot of me?!" the merchant fumed.

"I didn't know what she was going to say," he shrugged coyly.

"I was going to say 'suck your-'"

"I KNOW!" Anna silenced her again, "I know what you were going to say, and I don't want to hear it! What I want to know is why Robin is being such a catty little bastard!"

"Maybe I don't appreciate you putting the moves on every man you meet! Maybe I find that just a little insensitive and unwise! Did you ever consider that?!" he barked.

"Did you ever consider that you don't own me?!" she bit back.

"Look, maybe you two should just have a nice little chat somewhere else..." Gaius trotted forward.

"Shut up!" Anna pushed him away, "We're having this out!"

"Loath though I am to say it," Tharja sighed, "maybe the thief is right. You need to calm down, it's bad for the blood, darling."

"Get lost! There's no way I'm letting this go!" Robin cried. Tharja stepped back. She had to admit, even she was afraid of that tone.

"You inconsiderate misogynist!" accused the merchant.

"Two-timing harpy!" the tactician fired back.

"Clueless domineer!"

"Heartless whore!"

"To hell with you!"

"To hell with YOU!"

Anna panted, red in the face, teeth gritted at the tactician, who was similarly countenanced, "My tent. Five minutes."

"Make it three," he stared straight back at her. They both stormed off in the same direction, bumping elbows as they made their way down the path.

"Wait... What just happened?" Gaius watched them leave.

"...I dislike you," Tharja frowned at the thief, turning to walk away.

"Seriously," the ginger-haired man looked around, "is this a prank? Is someone waiting in the bushes to laugh at me? ...What the hell just happened?!"

* * *

Morgan scratched her head, "...I'm confused, too. What did you two do after that?"

"We... talked to each other. We had a long, hard... talk about our feelings, and learned to respect one another's wishes a bit more," her father explained, glancing over at his wife for confirmation.

"How so?" the smaller redhead pressed.

"Well," he scratched his neck, "I learned to respect that your mother has her... habits, and that they're all fully platonic, even when they don't seem as such. The fact that we're married helps me feel a little more secure in that now. I've learned to have faith."

"And I was made aware that, overbearing though he can be, your father's protective protests came from the best possible place," she planted a kiss on his cheek, "Marriage has helped me accept that protection with a bit more grace, too."

"You guys got all that settled in one talk? But you were so mad at each other..." Morgan folded her arms.

"Like I said," the former tactician nodded, "your mother can be very persuasive when she wants to be." Anna giggled and fed him a wink. Morgan shrugged it off; her parents would never fail to bewilder her.

"Excuse me," a young woman interrupted them, "I'm looking for a new perfume. What can you recommend?"

Robin smirked and stepped forward, "Well, my dear, for someone as lovely as yourself, there really is no proper accompaniment better than 'Ça Fait Classe.' It comes from Rosanne, land of the women most revered for their beauty in all the world."

"Ordinarily," she smiled coyly, "I'd balk at such transparent advances, but you have a certain air about you, sir. One of maturity. Perhaps it is your young companion, there."

"'Companion?'" Morgan repeated with humor, "I'm his daughter."

The woman nodded with comprehension as Robin bowed, "I'm too old to be chasing skirts, my dear, but I recognize beauty when I see it. My recommendation is one of pure honesty."

"And what of the cost, then?" she asked.

"Perhaps for you we may say eight hundred gold," Robin tabulated quickly.

"That seems reasonable," she offered it up.

"Allow me a moment to converse with my employer," he winked at her and moved to the back of the store with Anna.

"Your father seems a noble man," the young woman smiled pleasantly at Morgan.

"Oh, yes," she agreed, "Father's the best. I know how it might seem, but he really is just making a proper recommendation for you. You're too pretty for anything less."

"You flatter me, darling," she laughed into her palm.

Another few moments passed in silence between them until the former tactician emerged from the back of the store, "My sincerest apologies, milady, but I've been told I can accept no less than twelve hundred gold for that item."

"No trouble," she accepted, digging the extra money out of her purse, "I think it's the proper choice, and there's no backing out now, is there?"

"Thank you, miss," he collected the extra payment, "you shan't be disappointed. Good day to you!"

"And to you," she waved.

"Still got it," Robin chuckled, leaning over the counter.

"Don't get in over your head, 'stud,'" his wife grounded him, taking his hand into her own.

"Naturally," he glanced down at Morgan, "Lesson Four: Lowballing."


	28. Revenue

Anna's eye slowly parted open as a muffled sound pierced the quiet of the room. To anyone else, likely it would have seemed like a strong wind or a simple minor disturbance of any other kind, but Anna recognized it immediately: the sound of her baby's needful cry stabbed into her ears. She groaned in defeat and picked up her head.

All at once, a sensation on her stomach held her down. "I've got it," she heard her husband mutter.

"I owe you one, hon," she sputtered into her pillow as she sank straight back down.

The former tactician pushed himself up from the bed as it squeaked in protest of the weight, wooden frame bowing beneath him. He hurried himself out of the bed and into the next room over, sighing with a muddled smile on his face at the whining baby, fitfully swinging his arms in his crib. Robin picked the tiny boy up and cradled him in his arms, "What's the matter, buddy?" After a pause, the former tactician realized the answer, "I hope you get out of this habit soon." Robin began to peel off the child's sullied diaper.

Anna nuzzled her face further into the soft embrace of the pillow. She felt a pang of depression wash over her like an unexpected wave, claiming her thoughts all at once: this was what her life had descended into? Had she not once travelled the world in her business, mastering the elements and making a profit behind a big, undeniable smile of unadulterated glee? And now, here she was, thankful for a few extra minutes of sleep before the sun had even risen. Why had she given all that up?

"All better?" she heard from the hall, "Then back to sleep with you, okay?" She heard the baby coo as if to acquiesce. "Good lad," his father continued the imaginary conversation, "Mother and I will see you in the morning. You know, in a few hours."

Maybe that was why. Anna couldn't bring herself back into sleep as she lay down, eyes in darkness but mind buzzing about as fast as it was able. Robin had brought a lot into her life, but whether it was sufficient to sacrifice her dreams... for a moment, Anna was unsure. The redhead scrunched up her nose in distaste at the subject, continuing to think until a thump and a sudden shake of the bed alerted her. A sharp sigh escaped the opposite side of the bed. Anna waited a moment to see if there was anything that would emerge from the sudden gesture. Instead, the recently added weight only continued to hang off the side of the bed listlessly. There was a creak as said weight leaned back and stroked Anna's cheek with the back of his palm. "Would that I could be at peace like you," he murmured as he perceived her deaf.

"Baby," the merchant yawned so as to preserve the illusion, "I can't sleep."

"Me neither," he concurred simply.

"Worried about Steven?" she guessed.

She heard his hesitation as he relented, "Worried about many things, but that's certainly one."

"What's to be worried about beyond that?" she asked, "We've got a pretty sweet life in any other case."

He chuckled in acknowledgement of her remark, then continued, "Fair, but... Anna... are you happy?"

She started and allowed one eye open, shocked by how he seemed to have read her mind, "Of course. Why would you think otherwise?"

"I don't know," he frowned, "I see a look in your eyes sometimes, once it was only seldom, but now that you have the stall back it feels like it's nearly every day. You look like a chained wolf."

"You think I miss my old life?" Anna extrapolated.

"Well, you give me ample cause to think so," her husband nodded back.

"It's a little early for this isn't it?" she prevaricated, pulling blankets around herself.

"Do I hear a tacit admission?" Robin glanced down at her eyes.

"I hear a man who needs to give his wife some rest," she argued, shutting her eyes.

He placed a hand over her own, recognizing her weakness, and drew another through her long hair. She protested the touch briefly with a grunt. "Come on," Robin encouraged, "I think it's time for another of our famous late-night chats."

"I think you're a pain in the neck," Anna stuck out her tongue as she rolled over to face her husband.

"Yeah, but you love me," he winked, putting a hand on her hip and jostling her whole frame.

"Pressing your luck big time, tactician-boy," the redhead huffed.

"There's a name I haven't heard in a while," he smiled more broadly at his wife.

Anna halted her thought to evaluate the point; it had been a while since she had last used the nickname. The merchant glanced to each side wondering why that might have been. "I guess," she excused, "Being my husband kind of changes what I think of when I'm talking to you. You retired the job, after all."

"The end of the war retired the job," he corrected, "I retired from war."

His wife rolled her eyes, "Anyway... when I think of my husband, the profession no longer comes first. It would be like if you called me 'merchant gal.'"

"That would be odd," he agreed, putting his fingers to his chin, "in part because I don't think I've ever employed the use of the word 'gal' in any part of my speech, ever."

"Not the point," Anna growled.

"I know," he laughed, tousling her hair, "I'm just trying to lighten the mood. It gets so serious around here sometimes."

"And whose fault is that, Mr. 'I'm-Worried-About-A-Lot-Of-Things?'" she submitted with a smirk and a hyperbolically stupid impression.

"My loving wife, ladies and gentlemen," the former tactician presented to no one in particular.

"Are we gonna talk?" she giggled as she pushed his back.

"Are we not talking right now?" Robin cocked an eyebrow.

"Not about what we started this conversation with," Anna noted.

"Didn't you try to change the subject?" he smirked.

"Well, you pressed the issue," the merchant defended herself.

"Okay, okay," he inhaled, "mutual happiness. Your career. Where do we start?"

Before Anna could craft a reply, they both stopped and turned their heads toward a set of small taps along the hallway. There was no mistaking the cadence of their owner. The parents got up and crouched by their door to listen carefully as the sounds marched into the baby's room.

"Hey, Steve," they heard whispered, "still having trouble getting to sleep, huh?"

The baby mewled gradually in reply.

"Well, never fear!" she announced in a proud whisper, "Big Sister is here! And with her is her patented Mom and Dad storybook!"

Steven cooed appreciatively.

"Okay... where did we leave off? Were you keeping track?" Morgan requested of her brother.

The baby murmured indifferently.

"Slouch," she reprimanded him, "Let's just start from here, then."

Anna and Robin pressed themselves closer to the door, sitting comfortably, and prepared to listen.

* * *

The night was quiet, muffled. Rain poured and slapped against the walls of the tent, the wind shaking them to and fro. A small lump of melted wax had begun to congeal on the corner of the dirtied page that sat on the desk, gone unobserved by the focused eyes of its owner. The hands that mastered the desk spread out busily, trailing along the aging page, gesturing as if to symbolize an entire conversation with an entity that was not present, or at least very silent. Lips moved as the young man planned out his movements; they would likely think him insane for talking to himself like this, as it was quite the bad habit, but he felt it necessary. How could one plan and understand anything that couldn't be said out loud?

"Back here again, huh? Déja-vu," mocked a familiar voice from the tent's entrance. Raindrops slid down the merchant's sleek vestments and made her hair shimmer as if it had been coated in glitter.

"Actually," he rose up from his desk, knowing there was no escaping this situation, "it's been a little while since we've talked in this place."

"I've missed it," she mused, not specifically to the tactician.

"I suppose in an ironic sort of way, I have too," he admitted, leaning back, "So, what's tonight's interrogation?"

"Please, you make it sound so insidious," she dismissed him with a wave of her hand, "I wonder if you'd even be alive if I weren't here to check on you every so often."

"I don't think I can contest that much," Robin chuckled.

"So," she began, drawing out the syllable with a long breath. He cocked an eyebrow at her. "Do you want to tell me what's getting to you?" she finished for him.

"I don't know what you mean," he shrugged.

"Come on, Robin, we're past this," she rolled her eyes, "I know you're not fine. The bags under your eyes are even darker than usual."

"Oh, right," he bit his lip, "Tharja cursed me to be unable to sleep for what happened the other day."

"While I wouldn't put her above it, I don't buy it," the redhead shook her head.

"But it's the truth," he protested more earnestly.

"Well, something has you worried," she folded her arms, adamant.

"Remember that whole deal about leading an army?" he smirked vaguely at her.

"Now you're closing up with sarcasm, so I know I've got you," Anna gloated in her victory.

"No you haven't," he resisted.

She smiled amusedly, "This isn't a debate. Talk."

"I've had plenty of sleepless nights," he persisted, "what makes you think tonight's a problem?"

"Because you stopped halfway," she smiled, closing the deal.

The tactician's eyes widened, "What?"

"Your notes," she indicated with her finger, "you stopped writing them halfway. You were sitting and thinking rather than writing when I walked in. You only pause in the middle of your writing like that when you find you don't know what to say. When you're 'organizing your thoughts,' as you say. And I think we both know what that means."

"Great," Robin reclined in his chair, "another woman who knows my every habit."

"You just absorb things when you're around someone for a good while, you know?" Anna noted idly.

"I feel bad," he put a hand to his neck, "I don't think I know much of your habits."

The merchant adopted a prideful grin and waved her finger in her companion's face, "That's because I'm always moving, like the wind! I have no habits, no patterns to nail down!"

"Is that why you gave up the shop to join an army?" he glanced up cynically.

"Perfectly unexpected," Anna touted, "and I didn't give up squat. That shop's always open."

"Right," the tactician nodded, as if it had relieved a weight from his shoulders, "no conflicts of interest there..."

"I'm a big girl," she protested, "I can handle two jobs. I can probably outsell most merchants even on a battlefield."

"I don't doubt it," Robin allowed before pausing, "Isn't this the part where you put your finger on your chin?"

"What?" she appeared to have lost her train of thought.

"That thing you do," he imitated the gesture, "'Can I help you?' You always do that when you use that voice."

The merchant concentrated and furrowed her brow as she thought, "Huh, I guess I sorta do. Weird. Maybe you pick up on more than you think, tactician-boy."

"Or maybe you're more predictable than you think," he laughed triumphantly, looking back to his work.

The redhead swallowed hard before continuing, "Hell in a hand-basket, I think you might be right."

"Anna, I was only teasing," he reassured her.

"No, you're right," she balled her fists, "I've got to mix things up, keep people on their toes... What do you do when you need a change of pace?"

"Usually?" he looked up, "I go see you. You're change enough to make me envy my predictability."

"You're really no help sometimes, you know that?" she glared at him disapprovingly.

"Well, what do you want?" Robin shrugged, "I get most of it from you, anyway."

Anna's eyes widened and flashed with realization, "That's it!"

Robin glanced around the room to find the source of her sudden inspiration, "What's it?"

"You've gotten to learn the tricks of my trade," the merchant recalled, tapping a finger on her forehead, "but I don't know much about yours."

"I don't know if strategy is something that can be taught via 'tricks,'" the tactician supposed with a distasteful sneer.

"Well, I'm not saying you have to teach me everything, just give me the abridged version," commanded the redheaded woman.

Robin sighed, "I guess we can give it a whirl. I'm no Soren or Kris, but I'll see us through."

"Who?" the merchant cocked an eyebrow.

"This is going to be a long night," he massaged his temples.

"Oh, less griping, more writing," she demanded.

With a large exhale, the tactician commenced his lesson, "Very well, then. One of the most important lessons a tactician can learn is the effective use of his own troops: understanding their abilities and limitations is the key to finding any hope of victory among battles. Let's begin with base units: cavaliers are highly mobile due to their status as mounted units, and have strong might and defense, like a knight, but to a lesser extent, as such is sacrificed for their mobility. One thing they share almost perfectly with knights, however, is a severe lack of resistance to magical attacks..."

"This is going to be a long night," Anna repeated to herself, staring back down at the tactician.

* * *

"...and thus their strength is second to none, however, berserkers leave themselves open to being flummoxed by a weak level of skill that forces them to miss frequently when not properly trained, and they continue to suffer from the low resistance to magic of their base class. Warriors, on the other hand-"

"Robin..." Anna announced weakly, her head resting on the table.

"We'll get to tricksters soon, okay?" he smiled delightfully.

"M-Maybe we can bookmark the lesson for today, eh, professor?" his student smiled weakly beneath her now frayed ruby-red hair.

"Strategy not so easy as you thought, eh?" he smirked.

"I never thought it'd be easy," she refuted, "I just didn't think it'd be so involved. Now I know why you get bags under your eyes."

"It's a hard job," Robin smiled, "but I do it because I don't have the arm strength for real labor." Anna laughed.

"How do we get here so many nights?" the redhead wondered, staring at the ceiling of the tent, "Burning the midnight oil like this?"

"Sometimes it's enough to see another person to make you desire their presence more," Robin breathed, "wasn't it you who taught me that?"

"Probably. I'll take credit," she chuckled. "Robin?" she sobered up acutely, "You don't find me boring, do you?"

"How could I ever?" he returned with a laugh, "every day's a whole other story with you."

"Yeah, but do you ever get the sense that that story can end up so full of its own tropes that it ends up just inflating into a parody of itself?" she continued.

"I'm confused," he scratched his head, "are you asking if I think you're fat?"

She glared at him briefly, then shook her head with a wry smile as she saw the very same expression painted on his face. "The late-night musings of a madwoman. Forgive me," Anna relented.

"No trouble," her companion nodded, "at least madwomen have musings worth hearing."

"Maribelle was talking to you again, huh?" the merchant observed.

"Don't even get me started," Robin rolled his eyes hopelessly, "You want to put things to a stop for tonight, then?"

"On second thought," Anna lightly grabbed his sleeve, "No, not yet. I'd like another lesson."

He cocked an eyebrow at her, "What did you want to go over?"

She paused and placed her finger on her cheek, "Um, tricksters. You said you'd mention tricksters."

"Oh, of course," he nodded, "Let's see... tricksters are the most likely promotion of a thief, and is essentially a perpetuation of that class's hallmarks, with the added bonus of having the ability to heal. Tricksters are generally weak in terms of raw offense and defense as compared to other promoted units, but their outstanding mobility, blazing speed, precise skill, increased resistance to magic, and generally unbelievable luck can be more than enough to overlook or compensate for those faults."

"You're saying I'm useful because I'm lucky?" his student interjected.

"And fast," he corrected her ironically, "try to keep up. Now, the counterpart to tricksters are assassins, who, in a sense, invert the role of their sister class..." Robin drew to a halt as a weight fell onto his shoulder. "If you're tired," he grinned at his yawning protégé, "just say so and we'll call it a night."

"I'm not tired," she argued, "just cold. 'Cause of the wind and rain."

Robin glanced at his cloak as a gust of the aforementioned wind howled and shrieked beneath and against the folds of his tent. Dutifully, he pulled it away from its place near his bedroll and slipped it over the merchant's shoulders.

"You know," the redhead mused, "I've gotten so used to having this thing on me, I even recognize that it smells the same as you."

"Of all the things to say, that was the one you went with?" he laughed down at her.

"Oh, hush," she scolded, "I'm freezing my little butt off. I couldn't think of anything mushy."

"No mush necessary," the tactician concluded, "just get warm."

"So... you were saying?" Anna pressed, "Assassins?"

"Right, right," her mentor cleared his throat, "Assassins maintain and even exceed the highly technical skill of tricksters, and have equal speed and resultant intangibility, but they sacrifice the movement and magical components of tricksters for a more direct offensive application that is designed to make them lethal in a single blow..."

The words rang and registered in Anna's mind, but drifted quickly into incoherency as the sound of the voice beside her altered from an instructive tone to a simple droning, vaguely melodious, that melted into a kind of vast lake of sound that she submerged herself in, as one would the sounds of a gentle plucking and strumming of a guitar beside the warmth of a campfire. In darkness and silence she regarded and focused on this sound, the slow stream of notes pervading her unconscious and sliding gracefully through her mind as she sat and thought. She thought for what seemed a long time, of her family, and her life back at home, recalling the mechanical rattling of the wagon wheels in contrast to the naturally varied gaits of the steeds that drove it, and of her mother's perfume and simpler ensemble. She thought of her sisters, and how she had watched them leave the house one by one, knowing that it would be her fate one day, too. She recalled the night she left on her first trip away from home, the tearful parting with her mother, and the cold quiet of the night. Anna shuddered to think of that.

The image of similar freezing nights spent sighing wistfully under violet skies reared its head as she continued to sit and reminisce, until she came upon a realization: she didn't recall having such a night recently. Such nights were common sticks in her otherwise carefree tenure as a merchant, but since joining the Shepherds, the feeling had become somewhat alien to her. Every night the redhead could recall was spent in at least some degree of warmth... because invariably, her thoughts always turned to...

"Anna?" she roused herself and glanced up, feeling a hand pressed against her cheek, "You were slipping."

"Oh," she bit her lip simply.

"And I think you were saying my name," Robin added, uncertain as per his inflection.

Anna felt her cheeks grow hot, especially beside the gentle, nurturing pressure of the palm supporting one of them, "Er, I was just going to ask you to slow down a little."

"Of course you were," he acceded knowingly, "Assassins... have the unique ability... to slip between enemies... making them optimal for flanking and... i-invasion tactics." Robin halted himself with a yawn.

"Falling asleep on me, professor?" she scolded gently, "That's no good."

"I was just resting my eyes," the tactician protested as he fluttered his eyelids. "A-Anyway, assassins can also employ bows, which..."

Anna continued to pretend to listen as the voice murmured on, though Robin, too, began to slowly lose place and see the words drop from his tongue before he could process them, ultimately finding himself slumping back into the chair and letting his cheek meet with that of the redhead. Each smiled as they felt the other's warmth.

* * *

Chrom sipped briefly from the tea provided to him as he scanned the map, Frederick looking sharply and vigilantly over his shoulder. At last, he glanced up and swallowed hard, almost to the point of choking, on the small quantity of tea as Robin walked in with Anna in tow. Ordinarily, that wasn't so odd, but Anna took the place on the opposite side of the map from Chrom, sporting the tactician's large and well-worn cloak. Meanwhile, the man himself struggled by pulling at the merchant's own crimson ensemble.

"This thing is loose everywhere I don't need it to be and tight everywhere it needs to be loose," Robin complained.

"Sorry you can't match my perfect figure," the redhead winked, "It does require a pretty slender belly, which I see you're rather lacking."

"My stomach is the last thing I'm worried about this outfit accommodating," he pulled valiantly against the front of the pants.

"Don't stretch out my stuff!" she chided him, "Anyway, like you have a right to talk. How many bricks do you carry in your pockets?"

"I guess my cloak does assume a certain physical fortitude that I can see you're rather lacking," he bit back.

"Not just that, either," the merchant went on, "you're storing all these books... I've got pages jammed up in places I don't even want to mention."

"Anna, Robin..." their captain finally managed to call out, "An explanation would be nice."

"Er, it's sort of a bet," the tactician pulled at his large and decorative collar.

"Don't worry, Chrom, m'boy," the merchant smiled, "I'll lead us to victory, no problem!"

A bead of sweat appeared on the prince's forehead, "You're our tactician for the day?"

"Yessir," she stiffened into a taut salute.

"And I'm just another grunt for today," Robin bowed.

"Are we sure this is a good idea?" Chrom whispered to his friend.

"Not to worry, Your Fretfulness," Anna smiled across the table, "Robin taught me everything he knows."

"Well, as much as I could cram into one lesson..." he rubbed his neck.

"Oh, Naga save us," the lord muttered to his feet.

"It's time to tip the scales!" Anna clasped her hands together in celebration.

"I don't really sound like that, do I?" Robin glared at her concernedly.

"I don't know, let me try again," she insisted, "'Here's how it's done!'"

"'Cha-ching!'" mimicked the young man.

"'Checkmate!'"

"'Ready to get gouged?'"

"'You're finished!'"

"'Violence is on sale today!'"

"Don't misrepresent me," the redhead scolded, "I would never say something so silly."

"You would and you have," replied her companion.

"'You're all right.'"

"'I'm not worried.'"

"'Now that's strategy.'"

"This is starting to make my head hurt," Chrom informed them.

* * *

"And that's all for tonight," declared Morgan, evidently ignorant of the pale, steel-grayish daylight that was already striking through the clouds. Robin and Anna rose from the posture beside the door and returned to their bed with matching sighs.

"We did have a lot of fun," the former tactician remarked contentedly.

"I guess my time with you could have turned out worse," his wife shrugged with a smirk.

"'Could have been worse.' How inspiring. I think I want that to he my epitaph," he rolled over and hugged her.

"So, did we ever decide the issue of mutual happiness?" his wife wondered.

"I don't know," he shrugged, "are you happy?"

"I was doing some thinking," Anna suggested, "and I feel like I might have been unconsciously wearing some rose-colored glasses before. I think the way things turned out is pretty good by me."

"You don't miss the freedom?" Robin supposed.

"Freedom's all well and good, but freedom at that time was synonymous with loneliness, and I'll be frank in saying being by myself was getting to me. Sometimes you start to feel like you're the only person in the world..." she sighed.

"Or, at least, the only one who knows you're there," her husband complimented, leaning back and causing the bed to squeak.

"I am a sucker for undivided attention," she winked, embracing him.

"And I'm a sucker for pretty ladies who like to have eyes on them," Robin chuckled.

"Uh-huh," his wife rolled her eyes, "well keep your eyes within this vicinity or I'll gouge 'em out myself."

"Message received," he kissed her forehead delicately. After a break, he breathed upward and added, "You know I'll have to go back to working with Chrom soon."

"I know..." her eyes trailed down, "but I still haven't even gotten my figure back from the baby. You can't leave me alone like this."

"Not tomorrow, or anything," he assured her, "but sometime soon."

She sighed again, "Just don't be gone too long."

"I wouldn't dream of being away from you or the kids any longer than necessary," the former tactician affirmed, "Someday, I'll be able to call my work complete, and leave all this business with Chrom and the Halidom behind. Then it can be just about you and me."

"And when, pray, might that be?" the redhead wondered.

"Someday," he repeated vaguely with a laugh.

"It's getting cold out," Anna changed the subject.

"Yep," he concurred, "winter will be here before too long."

"The leaves are changing," the merchant continued her train of thought, "it's such a pretty time of year."

"And all those leaves die just so you can feel that way," he grinned.

"Why do you have to ruin stuff," she pushed him.

"I guess apples will be back in season, too," he noted more optimistically.

"Sure," she giggled, "apples."

Both of them remained silent, shutting their eyes until Robin spoke up, "Well, I'm not going to be able to sleep. Want to get a head start on breakfast?"

"I'll do the eggs if you'll take care of the bacon," she agreed, slowly rolling out of the bed.


	29. Trust

The shorter redhead glared across the table at her rival, setting her hand upon the piece. Trepidatiously, she moved it forward, watching for a reaction. Nothing. He was good.

With nary so much as a breath, the tactician opposite her slid a piece to advance toward her side.

Noting that her flank was exposed, the girl switched up her focus and redirected the front of her line. She drew closer to the enemy.

Reciprocating her move, her father took another piece and lined it up with his previous move.

Morgan began to sweat. She couldn't allow herself to act rashly, and yet too much hesitation would likely create her downfall, too. Not only did she need to take decisive action, but she needed to choose when to make the decision. "Time's running out," her father noted, "your enemy won't give you this long on a battlefield."

"Got it," Morgan protested, advancing another of her small porcelain troops to meet her father's advance.

He shifted at third piece into place. Morgan swallowed. This pattern was too blunt. What was he trying to do? There had to be something she was missing. She met the continued advance once more.

"Preparing a stonewall?" he smiled vaguely over at her, "Nothing wrong with that. Except that you leave yourself deprived of resources!" Morgan's eyes widened as her father shifted a piece she had failed to notice in the direction of her now depleted vanguard.

"Y-You don't think I'd fall victim to simple distractions, do you?" she wagged her finger and tried to smile, letting her ace in the hole, an additional bulwark, slide into place to defend the point of contention on her side of the board.

"No," he nodded, "but I expected you to expect me to make that move." The elder tactician let one of his advancing troops smash into and disrupt her guard. Morgan could feel herself growing hot; this could only mean trouble.

Wordlessly, the small redhead swiped her piece across the board to knock out the aggressor.

Robin shook his head to each side and shrugged, "You're thinking too one-dimensionally! If you keep this up, I have an unbeatable advantage as the attacker."

Morgan knew that. She watched as he repeated his move and knocked out her second defender. She was running out of time and options. After a sigh, she allowed her secret barrier to take the flanking attacker in hopes that it would force her opponent to reconsider his advance, "Not if my defense is smart enough."

"Morgan, what is the result of arguing a contradictory premise?" her father smirked. Another piece appeared from within his lines.

"We'll see where your smarminess gets you. Come at me, then!" she challenged.

"Don't be brazen, it emboldens your foe more often than your allies," Robin replied, knocking out her final line of defense.

"And by that token, makes them reckless!" she withdrew the piece requiring protection from its hidden status and knocked out the remaining advance.

Her father lowered his head and smiled, "Marvelously done. You took the initiative to involve a high risk piece when the opportunity made itself available, and didn't even hesitate at the chance. That's the sort of tactical thinking you'll need to survive. Victory is yours."

Morgan jumped up and pumped her fist, "I did it! I beat father!" Promptly, the girl proceeded to run a lap around the house repeating the proclamation. After a moment, her mother sauntered into the room and smiled slyly at her husband, "So, how'd the game go?"

"When's lunch?" he retorted, sitting back.

"That's your answer to everything," she reported, flopping down across from him. Staring at the board, Anna remarked, "I don't know what you see in this stuff. Looks boring. Guy moves in one direction or another, end of game."

"That's because you don't see the logical part of it, cutting your opponent out three moves ahead of time, seeing the direction their mind is heading and circumventing the thought before it even has time to leave their head," Robin's eyes flashed, staring fondly at the board.

"Whatever you say," she shrugged, "you big nerds."

"Plus, it's something to do with all the rain precluding outdoor activity," the former tactician continued, glancing out at the indigo-darkened skies as the sounds of thousands of tiny pellets of rain struck against the window panes, "I think we'd both rather avoid having to see what Morgan can do to a house when she's bored for a second time." Anna nodded ruefully.

"I'm starting to think this one-day-off-a-week thing wasn't a bad idea, after all," the merchant smiled across the table, taking a swig from a glass of juice she had seized.

"Told you you'd like it," her husband nodded.

At once, Morgan burst back into the room, panting and red-faced, "Hey, mom! I won the game!"

"So I heard," Anna pantomimed cleaning out her ear.

"I'm very proud of you, honey," her father told her, smiling up.

"The only problem," the smaller redhead leaned against the counter to rest, now aware that she had winded herself, "is that I don't know what to do with myself now."

"I'm sure your mother could use some help cleaning," Robin observed, glancing over at the taller redhead.

"Very funny," Morgan folded her arms, "You know what it might be a good time for?"

Robin shook his head, "I'm pretty sure I've told every story in my repertoire."

"We have given you a lot, Morgan," Anna contributed, "We'd scarcely have more to tell if we had taken a journal on every day of our lives."

"How about you just read me a different story, then?" the girl insisted.

"Such as?" her father cocked an eyebrow.

"How about this one?" Morgan produced a grass-green volume from her sleeve and passed it to her father, "I think it's a history."

"'Swordmistress?'" he read the title, "It seems to be about the heir to a Sacaen Marquess and her adventures with a motley band that surmounted an ancient evil."

"Ooh, that actually sounds pretty good," Anna smiled, endeavoring to peer over his shoulder.

"Let's see..." Robin cracked the book open halfway and scanned the pages, "Hmm... the writing is a little weak, but it's serviceable."

"Are you gonna read it or not?" Anna wondered, lowering her elbow onto the table and her chin into her palm.

"Hold on..." he requested, "There's something I wanted to see..." Immediately, the tactician winced and had his cheeks flush as he glared at the book uneasily, "I don't think I'll be reading this. Out loud or otherwise."

"Why not?" his wife demanded. In anticipation of the question, Robin passed the book to her, indicating a line with his finger. "What?" she focused her eyes there, "'Lyndis embraced her companion jovially, jostling both of them with a tight hug. As she was prompted to let go, Lyn couldn't help herself, and let her fingers trail along the mauve hair of the quivering pegasus knight, then along her neck. Finally, unable to withstand the pressure, the plainswoman brought her lips to those of her comrade and allowed her fingers to slide down...' Oh. Oh, my."

"What?" Morgan demanded, "I'm riveted! What kind of Sacaen tradition compels two women to kiss?"

"I don't think there's any such tradition," Robin shook his head, "Morgan, sometimes people write books that use historical characters, but they like to... stretch the truth a little to create different kinds of narratives."

"Oh?" Morgan brought her finger to her chin, "And what kind was that?"

"The bad kind," the former tactician slapped the book closed, "That little girls oughtn't be reading."

"But, don't you always say that I should broaden my literary and cultural horizons, father?" Morgan insisted.

"I fear this sort of thing would broaden all the wrong horizons," her father chuckled ruefully, standing at the same time as did his wife.

"Well, there has to be something else we can do," the little redhead asserted, folding her arms defiantly.

"You want your dad to teach you some more sophisticated wind magic?" Anna smirked sidelong at her husband.

"Not indoors," he started.

"Kidding," she mused. Morgan's head sank.

"I can't just sit here and twiddle my thumbs," the smaller redhead asserted, "I'll go crazy."

"You could always go check on your baby brother, whom you have most definitely awoken by now," Robin noted. The smaller redhead rolled her head to each side.

"Ooh, I've got a question," her mother raised her hand, "Robin, who made that stylish coat you're so fond of wearing?"

"We've been over this," the former tactician shrugged, "I don't know. I had it on when Chrom found me."

"Oh, right," Anna paused.

Morgan dropped her head onto the table, her muffled words rising up, "Oh, this is interminable. Uhm gunuh duh ov birduhm."

"What was that, sweetie?" Robin asked, peering along the surface of the table.

"I said I'm gonna die of boredom!" she complained, sitting back.

"You know we finished the game less than five minutes ago, right?" her father cocked an eyebrow.

"Boredom!" she repeated, "I'm gonna go practice lighting candles with my fire magic..."

Her father leapt up from the table and seized her by the hood of her cloak, "Oh, no you aren't! The last time you did that you burned your whole room down!"

"Oh, yeah," Morgan recalled distantly, putting her finger to her chin, "The look on your face was priceless, father."

"Someone's looking to get grounded," he leered at his daughter.

"Eep!" Morgan covered her mouth. The last time he had said that, she hadn't been able to read her books for a week.

"Don't scare her, honey," Anna half-joked.

"Nah, it's okay," Morgan sighed, "the threat of punishment makes it feel like we're a regular family."

"I'm glad something does," the former tactician chuckled, "because 'regular' we most certainly are not."

"Nope," the smaller redhead giggled genially. After a moment, however, she slumped back onto the table, "But I'm still bored."

"You want mom to teach you how to count inventory at a glance?" Anna supposed.

"No..." her daughter moaned.

"Shall we continue discussing deductive validity proofs using assumptions?" her father offered in turn.

"No... let's save that for later..." she denied again.

"Want another lesson on peripheral route persuasion?" the merchant suggested.

"Tempting, but, um..."

"How about some left-over rabbit, at least?" Robin finally provided, rising to the stew pot that was sitting on and warming the countertop.

"Oh, that's it!" Anna snapped her fingers.

"What? You want some too?" the former tactician dug a ladle into the pot.

"No, I remember a story for you, Morgan," she smiled, "See, it went like this..."

* * *

Anna shoved her way past one of the thick branches, sending a few of the olive-green leaves flying. The reddish branch made a palpable snap as she pushed past it.

"Ow!" she heard her companion shout. He walked out of the brush rubbing his forehead, which was now stained with a crimson scratch. "That tears it," he remarked at the landscape, a barren plain with only patches of dirt to characterize any spot within their immediate view, "We're definitely lost."

"We're not lost," Anna affirmed, "My sense of direction is impeccable."

"Then pray, where are we?" he glanced up.

"On the road to food!" the redhead stared ahead proudly.

"That's what you said about an hour ago, too," Robin sighed, "and yet we're nary a bean richer than we were then."

"You're just being pessimistic," she told him.

"I'm just starving to death," the tactician muttered in reply.

"I'm sure there are plenty of fowl out there just waiting to be trapped," Anna cracked her knuckles and gestured at the open plain.

"I'm beginning to get the distinct impression that you don't know anything about hunting," Robin's head sank below his shoulders.

"I know all about hunting," the merchant affirmed, "It's just like winning over a customer... uh, except with fewer compliments and small discounts and more stabbing and skinning." The tactician refused to comment as the redhead continued on, "C'mon, move those feet!" she instructed, dragging him away.

The pair continued to move along the vast seas of grass as the sun drifted lower and lower into the sky. Suddenly, Robin was alerted by a flock of birds that squawked loudly overhead. He hurried to his companion's side: "Where are the bows?"

"Bows?" she blinked.

"To hit birds and game at a distance," he nodded, "What, did you think we would be using swords?"

Anna blushed and hid the bag containing two steel swords rather conspicuously behind her back.

Robin rolled his eyes, "Did you pack my tomes, at least?"

Anna avoided his gaze and scratched the side of her head, proceeding to play with a lock of her hair. Robin held his forehead in his hands and suggested they keep moving.

At another time, the two spotted a rabbit cautiously sniffing a dandelion, preparing to take a nibble of the little yellow weed. As Robin approached the rodent quietly on his tiptoes, Anna called to him, "What's taking so long?" Needless to say, the startled creature bolted immediately. Robin massaged his temples and returned to the embarrassed merchant, again suggesting they continue.

Relenting on the idea of capturing or properly killing any animal, Robin determined to focus his attention on the flora of the land. He was drawn quickly to a tree of moderate height and light, coffee-colored bark adorned with what appeared to be tons of small red berries. "This should be no problem," he sized up the tree, "I can just climb onto a firm part of the trunk and shake one of the branches until the berries all come tumbling down. Then you can gather them all up."

"Sounds like a plan," Anna concurred, "but your luck has kinda been shoddy today and, strange as it may seem, I can't help but to think I may be contributing to it somehow."

"No, whatever gave you that impression?" Robin folded his arms as he declared flatly.

"All I'm saying is maybe I should do the shaking and you the collecting," she returned.

The tactician opened up a sack they had been carrying to hold their yield (thankfully, Anna had, at least, remembered to bring that along), "I can agree to that. Get shakin'."

"Can do!" the redhead exclaimed, scaling the first section of the tree's trunk with ease. Robin heard her grunt with effort a few times as she groped her way up the rest of the mostly vertical trunk, focusing on fixing the string of the sack, himself, until he heard Anna breathe contentedly and announce, "All set!"

The young strategist put his had in front of his face to shield his eyes from the falling sun as he ascertained his partner's position. "That looks good, start shaking," he commanded, opening up the sack to see if he could catch any of the berries on the initial drop.

Anna complied and bent over to reach the large branch before her, taking a firm hold of it and waggling it up and down with both her hands. The leaves of the tree rustled cacophonously as she shook faster and with all her might.

"Doing great," Robin praised, ignoring the berries that dropped onto his head, as they didn't bother him much. He smiled at length when he saw the fruits begin to spill into his bag.

"I think that's all I've got on this one," Anna determined, panting as the limb settled.

"Okay, nice work," he lauded, setting about picking up the berries from the ground, "Relax a minute while I pick these up, the move on to the next one. We'll get as many as we can carry. At least then this trip won't have been a total waste... assuming we find our way back to camp."

The merchant obeyed and rested her head against the trunk of the tree and hummed a short tune. As she sat, she glanced down the length of the branch and noticed something interesting: a crow was tossing something small and shiny all around in its beak, as if it was retching on the item. Anna leaned forward, "What have you got there, little fella? Are you choking?" The onyx bird continued its behavior unperturbed. "Here, I'll help," Anna began to climb forward delicately, looking the creature in the eye, "and then I'll help myself to whatever's bugging you. We'll kill two birds with one stone, okay?" The crow squawked loudly in protest. "Okay, bad analogy," the redhead admitted, "but just scooch those tiny feet up this way a little and we'll be as good as go-woah!"

Anna was prevented from finishing her thought as a thunderous crack announced that the branch had broken under her weight. She shut her eyes tightly in reflex as she braced herself for impact with the ground. Instead, however, the merchant received a reasonably soft landing accompanied by a strange noise beneath her. Dusting herself off as she felt the ground with her feet, Anna stood and looked for the source of the noise. She covered her mouth in surprise: "Ohmigods, Robin!"

The tactician squeaked under the pile of scattered timber and leaves.

* * *

Robin covered his bleeding and bruised forehead as the pair continued along their mostly aimless path through the seemingly endless plain. He rubbed the bridge of his nose quietly as they walked.

"I'm really sorry," the woman beside him put her hand to her neck.

"It's all right," he waved his hand, "I know you didn't mean it. Just... look out a little more, if you please."

"I was trying to spare you some harm, you know. Maybe if you'd hurried we wouldn't have a problem," the redhead retorted.

"Right... I'm the problem. Did you really think that branch was going to hold you up?" he glared back.

"I wasn't worried about the dumb branch," she argued, "there was a crow... I-It's not important, just try to see the trees through the forest, here."

"I can see plenty of trees," the tactician screwed up his face.

"It's an expression," she gave up.

"Whatever," he exhaled.

The pair walked in silence for a few moments more, the heat finally sapping out of the evening air as the sun had already found itself halfway into its bed for the night. As their boots traipsing made the only audible noise among the darkening clearing (save for the ceaseless songs of cicadas) Anna frowned and spoke up, "Okay... so I admit we might be a little lost by now."

"Oh? I hadn't noticed," the tactician grimaced.

"You know, you don't have to be such a pain about all of this," she scolded, "You could try helping instead of complaining."

Robin opened his mouth to shout, then stopped and restrained himself, declaring softly, "Then my advice is that we make camp here while there's still enough light to see, and then we can start looking for camp anew in the morning."

"Fine," Anna acquiesced after a moment, placing her things into a rather neat pile, "but we don't have any blankets. It's going to get pretty cold out here overnight."

"Er, well... we could always huddle together," the tactician scratched the back of his neck.

Anna leered back at him, "Lay so much as a hand on me while I'm sleeping and I'll rip it off myself."

"Well, then what do you propose we do?" he shrugged.

"I dunno, but I need a snack," the merchant sat down, "I'm beat."

"Well, we don't have much with us..." Robin looked around.

"Are you crazy? We're sitting on at least a week's rations," she pulled the sack full of berries out from under her companion.

"We can't eat those, they're for the others!" Robin protested.

She rolled her eyes, "Really, tactician-boy, one day I'm going to have to teach you a lesson in practicality."

The tactician paused and stared at the berries, looking them over. Suddenly, his eyes widened with realization. Anna began to reach for the succulent fruit. "Don't," he forbid her once more, trying to take her hand away from the sack.

"You can't tell me what to do," she stuck out her tongue, "I barely know you, anyway."

"Wait, Anna," he insisted, "You really shouldn't-"

"Oh, can it," she pushed him away, taking up a handful of the berries and dropping them into her mouth, chewing loudly. Robin rubbed his forehead. "See? Chrom's not going to execute us for a few berries." She smiled triumphantly and swallowed another handful of the sparkling beryls, "C'mon, have one."

Robin eyed the bag warily and shook his head.

"Oh, for crying out loud, Robin, they're just-" Anna paused as her face lurched forward into a burp. The redhead covered her mouth, then placed a hand over her stomach. Now she, too, had a revelation, "The berries are inedible, aren't they?"

Robin nodded solemnly.

"Oh, gods," the merchant turned away. The tactician across from her respected her privacy as he heard the young woman struggle valiantly against the impulse in her throat before he winced at a wet sound striking the ground. "Help me," she groaned, clutching her stomach.

Robin reached over and loosened the redhead's collar and pulled back her free-hanging bangs behind her head with her ponytail. "Don't look," she commanded weakly, turning away again. The young man obeyed, though he couldn't help himself from wincing again when he heard the same wet sound wash over the ground.

* * *

Drowsily, the redheaded merchant sat up. Her companion sat across from her, on the opposite side of a small fire that wasn't exactly fizzling out, but it certainly wasn't raging. It danced silently in its meager boundaries and defied the dense dark of the forest as night had descended upon it. Anna rubbed the sleep from her eyes and yawned reflexively.

The tactician turned to face her, "Oh, good, you're up."

"I didn't fall asleep in my own puke or anything, did I?" she hoped nervously, running her hands through her hair.

The young man chuckled, "No, you just stopped throwing up and kind of leaned back into my chest. Thinking you were asleep, I brought you over here so you could lie down."

"Thanks," she managed. As the fire played light upon both of their faces in the dark for a minute, Anna pinched her chin and thought to herself. Eventually, she cleared her throat, "For what it's worth, I apologize."

"Hmm?" Robin picked his head up.

The merchant rubbed her shoulder, "The food gathering, the getting lost... this has all been my fault."

"No, it hasn't," her companion shook his head, "I should have tried to communicate with you better. Instead of trying to work with you, I just got angry and sarcastic. I'm sorry."

"In fairness, I'm a little partial to one of those traits," she mused.

"Anger?" he smirked through the flames.

"We'll let bygones be bygones, then," Anna nodded.

"Of course. And we'll try to communicate more effectively," her partner added.

"Speaking of communication," the redhead glanced down at the fire, "how did you do that?"

"Turns out we did have one tome, after all. Pretty worn out, but it burned quite nicely. Inscription on it was faded though, something like 'Drying Gaze,'" the tactician explained. Afterward, he pulled a stick out from the fire, "Care for a little roast pigeon? It was the best I could do."

"Anything to get the taste of vomit out of my mouth," Anna reached around the blaze and took the poultry, graciously accepting a bite. "Hey, that's not bad," she remarked, impressed, "You know, you're a lot more talented than I gave you credit for."

"Please," he shrugged, "I just do what I can. My having a big head is what got us into this mess to begin with. Anyway, I was impressed with the way you clambered up that tree. Like lightning."

"Great," she rolled her eyes with a laugh, "you can cook AND lead an army, and I... can climb trees."

"That's not what I meant," he held out a hand, blushing, "I just mean that you're really talented, too."

"Hah," Anna scoffed, "you haven't seen the least of my talents. I'll show you my real skills at my stall sometime."

"I'd like that," her companion smiled, "It'd be a good learning experience. Plus, then we could spend some more time alone."

"What?" she cocked an eyebrow.

"Uh, you know," Robin excused, "improving our communication skills."

The redhead laughed, "Right."

Suddenly, the pair both craned their necks toward a rustling in the brush that surrounded them. A growl sounded from within.

"Hells," Robin bit his lip, "I didn't even think about predators... We might be in trouble."

"The swords!" Anna recalled, digging the pair of steel swords she had brought along out of her bag. She passed one to her comrade and they both rose to their feet, gripping the blades.

"Watch the leaves. Or better yet, listen. Your ears will be more effective in the dark," Robin instructed loudly.

"Got it," the redhead endeavored to focus her hearing. Another growl caught her ear and she looked up to find a large furry mass aimed at her. "Bear," she murmured aloud.

Robin stood with his back facing hers, listening carefully and heard a howl pierce the stillness of the dark. A set of dark eyes glistened from beneath the underbrush. "Wolf," he whispered behind him.

At once, the merchant jumped and felt herself sweat as the furry pile began to charge at her. The pair of eyes also sank into the inky black and was replaced by a whirlwind of straight and jagged fuzz, causing Robin to shift his legs. "Get ready to move," he declared aloud. His companion assented. The predators stormed quickly upon their targets, gaining speed with each step, until the tactician cried out, "Jump!"

The redhead, needing no further provocation, sprang half a foot into the air and out of the bear's path, but was shocked to see a wolf skid to a halt before her. "Wolf-bear!" she cried out in fear.

Robin rolled a bit more lethargically out of the path of the wolf, in part because he wanted to demonstrate a lack of fear, and in part because he was simply less agile. In either case, however, he was shocked to see a bear snarl angrily past him and shift direction back toward him. "Bear-wolf!" he gasped.

"What's the plan, tactician-man?" his comrade demanded, deciding that she very distinctly did not like the look of the leering wolf.

"We can't fight them alone," he strategized, "we have to pair up to overpower them."

"But there's two!" the redhead noted impatiently.

"I'm thinking!" Robin replied honestly, "Jump!"

The pair dodged out of the way of the animals, charging with their second winds.

"Uh, get one to hit the other!" the tactician reasoned.

"How?!" Anna yelled.

"Do you trust me?" her partner asked.

"Oh, that's not a good sign," she felt herself begin to sweat again.

"Anna?" he commanded.

"Yes, yes," she replied begrudgingly, seeing the bear, well, bearing back down on her, "I trust you, gods dammit."

"When the bear comes at you this time, don't move," Robin told her.

"Are you crazy?!" the merchant shouted, "I'll be filleted!"

"Please, give me a chance!" he begged, "Making up crazy plans is kind of my job!"

"And staying alive is mine!" Anna argued.

"Too late!" the tactician replied as the bear closed he gap quicker than Anna had imagined. She didn't feel it tear into her however, rather, she was briefly enveloped in darkness, feeling a soft, passive heat press against her. Instantly, she realized the tactician's plan. Poking her head out from under the cloak, she saw the wolf gnawing ferociously at the bear's neck. With a vicious and guttural growl, the bear wound up its massive paw and swatted the silvery canine away, leaving massive bloody swaths on its torso. The wolf whimpered into a retreat under the brush. "Move, quick!" suggested Robin, who leapt up and caught the bear's eye. Anna did as she was told and rolled in the opposite direction, situating herself comfortably behind the bear. Robin locked eyes with her over the ferocious furry head, "Ready?"

"I've got it!" she nodded in confirmation. The creature stormed thunderously toward the tactician, who held out his blade. As the bear swung a heavy paw, the young man grunted and matched the move with his sword, drawing blood on the paw. Anna hurried forward.

The bear growled still louder and took another swipe, which Robin also matched, albeit with less efficiency; he was pushed back into the dirt by the sheer force. The bear, furious, loomed over the stumbling tactician and opened its maw for an intimidating, drooling bite full of glistening silver daggers. "Go!" the young man issued his final order, pushing himself forward. The beast was caught off guard as a sharp sting landed in its back.

"Slow your roll, big guy!" Anna winked, perched atop the monster's back. It reared, throwing her off, the sword along with her.

"Don't forget me!" Robin followed up, slicing across the bear's chest.

The beast began to recoil, stumbling on its hind legs, prompting both its adversaries to seize their opportunity. Once, twice, three times they cut diagonally in opposite angles along the bear's exposed torso and back. With a final roar, it spat blood from its maw and collapsed to the ground.

The pair stood in silence a moment, panting and clutching their respective breasts, looking over their kill. Finally, Robin looked up and began to laugh, first slowly and subduedly, then escalating into an octave his own voice failed to recognize and with absurdity. He extended his hand over the creature's fallen form and his companion took it as she did the same.

* * *

Chrom stood with his arms folded, a small smile on his face. Hopefully now his friend would learn how difficult life in an army could really be, and the value of team cohesion. He would be emerging late at this point, but better that than never. Finally, the Ylissean prince heard the telltale rustling of leaves that announced his tactician's return.

Panting and ragged, covered boot to brow in mud, blood, and loose leaves, Robin and Anna emerged from the thick forest, limping toward their captain.

"Well, looks like you two had fun," the blue-haired man chuckled heartily.

"You... weren't worried?" Robin managed between labored breaths.

"Not at all," the prince smiled, "That forest is a training arena for new Shepherds outside of wartime. Magic is used to make it look endless."

"What... about... the... wolf-bear?" Anna demanded.

"Or bear-wolf?" her companion compounded.

Chrom paused, "You saw a bear? And a wolf?"

"We killed a bear," Robin supplied, wiping his forehead.

"Oh," the exalt's brother paused another moment, then shrugged, "That wasn't supposed to happen. But at least you got some good training in, eh? And you grew closer as fellow soldiers, I hope."

The tactician and merchant exchanged glances, then began to walk toward their captain, cracking their knuckles. "Yeah," Robin snarled, "We learned this great new technique. Want to see?"

* * *

"Hah!" Morgan laughed, "I would've loved to see the look on his face... 'Don't hurt me, I'm just a wee prince! Eep! Oh no!'"

"Something like that," Anna took a sip of her juice.

"But with more expletives and raw fear," her husband noted, sipping more stew broth.

"Hey, it stopped raining," the smaller redhead became aware, glancing out the window upon noticing the lack of noise.

"So it did, and... aw, crap," her mother groaned, staring out the same window.

"What's the matter?" her husband asked, getting up to accompany her.

"It's snowing!" their daughter leapt with glee, "I'm gonna get my hat and gloves and then I'm gonna make a snow dragon!"

Anna and Robin turned their heads as she tore up the stairs.

"She knows the snow hasn't accumulated yet, right?" the redhead asked her husband.

"And that she doesn't have a hat," he added.

"Blah, I wasn't ready for it to be this cold just yet," the merchant complained softly, sticking out her tongue.

"Why?" her husband embraced her, "My offer from before is still open."

"Which one's that?" she snuggled into him.

"Huddling together for warmth," he grinned, pecking her cheek.

"Sounds good," she smiled in reply, "but first we gotta make sure the baby isn't freezing, either."

"Good point," he allowed.

As they marched up the staircase, a thought ran through Anna's mind, "Did you have to tell her about me vomiting all over the place?"

"Well, I just want to make sure she has an accurate picture of the events," he quipped, "Plus, in a weird way, I think it's kinda cute how embarrassed you were about that."

"You're cute in a kinda weird way, too," Anna remarked, "Do me a favor and get a spare diaper, there, cutie."


	30. Giffen Good

The arrow whipped past his head as the tactician ducked out of the way. A bolt of fire careened across the field to strike the archer who had fired said arrow shortly thereafter. Things on this battlefield were disintegrating quickly.

The Shepherds had been caught off-guard on their advance to silence the Mad King, ambushed by a pocket of Gangrel's forces who had diverted from their line at the capital, and who had all at once crashed into the Shepherds absent any warning, much to their strategist's chagrin: he should have anticipated an ambush so close to the Plegian capital, but he had been running so many other scenarios in his mind. Chrom had been little help, still mostly sulking and mute at the loss of his sister, but that was only reasonable. Unfortunately, it created a distinct strategic disadvantage when one couldn't speak to one's own captain for advice on direction. Without the steady hand and voice of the prince, the Shepherds had only cautiously and slowly trudged their small caravan along in an effort to escape the danger and bring their purpose to fruition. They were already several members richer since they had first taken aim at Gangrel, and since Emmeryn had dropped to her death, all of them helpful and strong in their own rights.

Everything had been going so well up to now. Now Robin leapt as an axe swung down and planted itself in the dirt beside him. He kicked its owner instinctively, causing the warrior to release his grip and fall, where he was put down by the tactician's sword.

"Robin!" he heard Frederick's voice boom from across the battlefield, "More archers are approaching and setting up!"

He cursed to himself: today was nothing but bad news. "Get Cordelia and Sumia back, now!" commanded the tactician.

"Just what I was planning!" replied the knight. Robin was thankful for that. Frederick was stubborn at times, but smart enough to see the entirety of Robin's strategy and not to ask questions in high-tension situations.

"Oy, Mister Robin," called out an aging mercenary, a new recruit, "Where Gregor is to be going next?"

"Keep Nowi safe, like before," he nodded to the taller man, "and if you see Ricken, tell him we need his wind tomes up front."

"Gregor has it," assented the mercenary, dashing off to obey the order.

A plume of purple mist and smoke shot up in Robin's face, blinding him and causing him to cough relentlessly into his sleeve, hiding his searing eyes. When he looked up as it subsided, he found a Plegian myrmidon downed at his feet, the last bit of life ebbing from his increasingly pale cheeks. "Watch yourself, Robin," instructed the typically monotone dark mage Tharja, "I wouldn't want anything to happen to you."

"Much obliged, but they need you to the east!" the tactician commanded.

"I'm not going to sit on my hands and watch you get hurt protecting any of them," she refused.

"To hell with me!" scoffed the young man, eyes burning, "They'll die! If you want to make me happy, go protect them!"

She glared at him a moment, then frowned uneasily, "Don't even think about dying before I get back to you."

"Go!" he insisted. Suddenly, the tactician was alerted to the sound of swords rattling on belts, causing him to turn to their source: two figures trotted up to him, one more slowly than the other. "Gaius, Anna," he breathed, "tell me you have good news."

Anna shook her head and presented Gaius, a smear of blood painting his pant leg, "One of their axe-wielders got the drop on us. ...Robin, there's a lot of them out there..."

"They're lickin' us good, Bubbles!" Gaius groaned, "Don't you have some kinda contingency plan?"

"I'm... working on it," he stuttered, "Did you see Libra?" Anna and Gaius shook their heads in unison. "Dammit!" Robin struck his palm with his fist, "and no word from Sully or Stahl, either...!"

"Where the hell's Blue?" demanded the thief, holding his injured leg.

"I don't know," the tactician declared plainly, grave in his voice.

"Agh!" they heard a woman cry.

"That's Miriel! Go see to her, quickly!" their strategist ordered.

"Aye aye, boss," Anna hurried off.

"Gaius," Robin halted the thief before he could move, "don't try to force it. Stay here, and take one of my extra vulneraries."

Gaius accepted the medicine and slapped the viscous liquid onto his wound. The burning caused him to wince, but he settled quickly as the healing began. "Place is the really goin' to hell in a hand basket, eh Bubbles?"

"We could be doing a lot better," he agreed tersely, "Stay here; I have to catch up with Vaike and Kellam, and see how Cordelia and Sumia are holding up."

"And what if they break through?" the ginger-haired thief clutched his leg again.

Robin tossed him a small dagger, "Pick your arse up and get out of here before things get worse."

"If anyone can turn this around, it's you, Bubbles," Gaius added more seriously.

"I appreciate it, but it doesn't mean anything if we don't live through this fight," Robin passed him by, hurrying along the line.

He caught up to Anna before long; their movement was nearly equal on the uneven ground, and he grabbed her shoulder to get her attention. She was holding onto a collapsed Miriel, "She got a nasty cut in her shoulder. Looks like she passed out from shock, and lucky for her, 'cause the dastard what did it seemed to think she was dead. I took care of him."

"Nicely done," he praised, "start healing her."

"Way ahead of you," she shook her staff.

"Did you see Kellam or Vaike?" wondered the clearly distressed tactician.

"No, sorry, I focused straight on Miriel," the merchant replied.

"It's fine, that's what I wanted. Keep an eye on Gaius if you get her fixed up," issued Robin as he continued on.

"You got it!" she saluted him as he passed.

"Robin!" expressed a relieved voice. Kellam's bruised face was waiting for the tactician as he reached the front of the line. "They saw me," relayed the surprised knight, "My armor kept me safe, for the most part, but some of those crazy barbarians jumped me and just started pummeling me with their bare fists!"

"Not to be callous, but you're not seriously injured, then?" demanded Robin.

"No, sir," answered the knight.

"Then I'll ask you to keep holding here. Where's Vaike?" Robin pressed on.

"He took off after some rather petulant swordsmen," Kellam recalled.

The tactician's eyes widened, "That moron! Son of a-" He rushed off in a cloud of dust before his sentence could be finished.

Frederick sped in front of him before he could discover Vaike's whereabouts. "Robin, I have a report," Frederick asserted firmly.

"Let's here it, then," Robin stood impatiently.

"I did as you commanded, however, both Cordelia and Sumia were injured in the oncoming wave of archers. Their mounts are absent, and they have both suffered injuries that make them incapable of fighting, consistent with having fallen from some distance in the air."

"I see. Were they moved?" Robin asked.

"Naturally," the knight captain bowed, "but, if I may, we are losing ground and manpower quickly."

"I've noticed," the tactician grunted, "Find Stahl, Sully, and Tharja and ask them to pull back. We'll have to organize a retreat."

"That seems wise," Robin could now observe the sweat on the great knight's face, "I'll ride at once."

Robin continued off further onto his units' own flank to search for Vaike, combing every inch of the ground, now whipping up into dozens of tiny dust storms, with his eyes. The odd enemy cavalier or mercenary leapt out at him, but the tactician's laser determination kept him from being distracted; anyone foolhardy enough to put himself in front of the young tactician's path heard a muffled chant and the frankly terrifying, birdlike chirp of lightning as it screamed across the arid air and struck them into convulsions of the most intense pain.

"I am not... accustomed... to fighting... in such climates," an echoing, mature voice complained between labored breaths.

"Do I look like a wildlife expert?" grunted her partner, followed by the sound of a falling body and a sickening splash, "Breathe deep and stay focused, that's all I can tell you."

"Lon'qu," Robin panted, taking to his side, "You seem to be holding up well."

The Feroxi swordsman smirked, "You didn't think a few thieves and sellswords popping out of their holes would he enough to harry me, did you?"

"You're certainly not the type to be caught with his pants down," the tactician concurred, mostly to himself.

"The man-spawn is lying, tactician," reported the taguel beside him with a twitch of her whiskers, "he seeks to conceal his injury for the betterment of the group."

"Mind your own business, you overgrown she-rodent," Lon'qu grimaced at her.

"Lon'qu, if you're hurt, fall back," commanded Robin, "We aren't going to be able to hold out like this for very long."

The swordsman gritted his teeth, then sighed in defeat, "Fine. I still have one good arm and leg, though."

"Lon'qu," the tactician leered at him expectantly.

"I'm going," he shook his head, "...just not very quickly."

"I will carry you, man-spawn," offered Panne, "my back is a very comfortable ride for humans."

"Y-You? Forget it," the myrmidon stuttered, "I'd sooner take my chances with the enemy!"

"There's no time for this, Lon'qu!" Robin urged, "Thanks for volunteering, Panne, now, giddyap!"

In one fluid motion, the taguel shoved her head underneath the swordsman's rear and hoisted him onto her back, eliciting no less than two panicked yelps. She carried him off at breakneck pace despite an apparent limp on her left leg.

* * *

"Just sit still, Gaius!" chided the blonde.

"Get your mitts offa me, princess! Help some o' the others, the ones who need it!" he insisted.

"You need it, you big dunce!" she refrained from punching him, "and Maribelle's too upset to even look at you." Gaius glanced over: it was true, the Shepherds' other token healer was doing her best not to look in the thief's direction, staring intently at her staff and current patient and straining her eyes to ensure he wasn't caught in her peripheral vision.

"Hurry up," Gaius changed his mind. Lissa huffed and concentrated back on her staff.

"Lady Anna... could you, perhaps, use your staff for this operation?" Virion bit his lip and tugged at his cravat.

"Nope," she sighed, grabbing his shoulder firmly, "the only thing to do is to pop it back into place." With a forceful and drawn-out shove, Anna heard the bone do just that, as it stuck itself back into the socket. Virion wailed much like a whale grieving for its lost mate might, that is, if a wifeless whale would wail. Anna chuckled briefly to herself, then sobered straight away: the two pegasus knights were still in trouble.

"Donny... where are you?" Lissa mewled as she continued to work on Gaius's leg.

"He'll make it, Princess," the thief placed his hand on her shoulder as she kneeled, "Potluck ain't much for looks, but he's got gusto to spare. He's a helluva fighter."

"Quit eavesdropping," she ignored him and continued working.

"Is it really eavesdropping if you're talking to yourself?" the ginger-haired thief shrugged.

Anna looked about the tent as she pulled Cordelia over. This was looking... bad.

* * *

"Hey... R-Robin..." wheezed Vaike, blood trailing down the multiple lacerations that marred every square inch of his exposed chest, "You're late to the party... but it's okay... Teach won't give you a tardy just this once."

"Vaike, what the hell were you thinking?!" shouted the tactician, "If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times not to go after swordsmen! Oh, what's the use, just start falling back, as quick as you can!"

"That," Vaike wiped his nose, "I can do. I beat those stupid myrmidons, anyway, you big jerk."

"Less bleating, more retreating," ordered Robin with a wave of his hand. As Vaike obeyed, Robin sighed to himself. Things were progressing, at least. The Shepherds were in a full retreat and untis were returning to a safe position: with ample speed they could cull their losses at simply being forced to back down, far more acceptable in the mind of the tactician than any casualty. Still, one wondered where Chrom had disappeared to at that moment. Robin shook the thought out of his head, he had to focus on rescuing everyone before things got any worse. Sully, Stahl, Donny, Nowi, Gregor, Tharja, and Libra were all still fighting at the Shepherds' remaining flank, and they needed to be told to give up that ghost quickly. With that thought in mind, Robin made his way along the outskirts of the initial site of the ambush, swiping down a few more enemy mages and infantrymen in the meantime.

It didn't take long to find them: Donny had his back to a boulder and was saved in the nick of time by Sully's lance when an axe-wielded approached him, but Sully was soon tossed from her steed by an axe thrown from elsewhere. Stahl turned his sword to meet the group that approached her as she recovered. Several feet-but no further-away, Gregor shouldered several attacks from the harder-hitting bruisers among the enemy ranks as Nowi, breathing heavily even in her dragon form, spit and sniped at targets below her as she beat her wings frantically to keep out of harm's way. All the while, Tharja stood on a crag, keeping her promise and opening the occasional terrifying black void in the middle of the ambushers' ranks.

The tactician entered the scene by blowing away a line of barbarians who were taking aim at Sully. "Get her back on that horse and get out! Donny too!" he barked at Stahl.

"On it!" he nodded with determination, allowing Sully to pull herself up by his shoulders. If Robin had paid attention, he might have noticed a genuine smile on Sully's face that lasted only an instant. When she recovered and was back in the saddle, the redheaded cavalier scooped up the young villager by the scruff of his neck and loaded him onto the horse's rear, spurring it on immediately afterward. "Don't take too long!" Stahl advised Robin as he did the same with his own means of conveyance.

"Urgh," Gregor grunted, "Is beginning to feel like battle fought up against hill." Blood seeped down his forehead and made pools of stains on several spots on his plain shirt and only slightly padded armor.

"Nowi, take Gregor out of there! I've got you covered!" Robin ordered, sending an approaching wave of Plegians sky-high with a ripping current of wind. As Nowi affirmed her compliance, gently wrapping her claws around the mercenary's shoulders, Robin glanced up, "Tharja, with me!" She took one look and nodded. A line of Plegian archers took aim at the escaping dragon and her passenger, but were suddenly blinded by a trail of flame that rose from the earth before them. Suddenly, a gust of wind turned the column of fire into a raging firestorm that swept over the unsuspecting archers in a wave of fevered crying and screaming.

"Ooh, that was a good one," Tharja cackled, flipping her hair and sounding positively ravished.

"Mercenaries!" her companion directed her.

"Yeah, yeah," she leafed through the tome in her hands. As the swordsmen charged forward, they were drawn to a halt by puddles of purplish gas emerging from the ground that anchored their feet in place. Most screamed helplessly as bolts of electricity zigzagged between them and scorched their flesh ash-black.

The dark mage sniffed the air, "Ooh... their panic is so delicious...! Hee hee hee! And the fact that I get to inflict this terror with you, Robin... This is a real dream scenario. Or nightmare, depending on who you're asking."

"Sure," he looked deflated, "It's been a gas. I need you to start falling back, Tharja."

She covered her breast with her palm in surprise, "Why? Taking all the fun for yourself? That's no fair..."

"No, I want you to be safe," he shook his head.

"I can handle myself against a couple of backward grunt-level goons," the dark mage grunted, mildly insulted.

"I'm sure, but not against significantly more than a couple," the tactician continued, "Just go back to the camp, Tharja. I don't want you to get hurt. I couldn't forgive myself if something happened to our new recruit."

"You're... worried about me?" she blushed. When Robin reasserted the sentiment, she hid her face, "All right, I'll go... but... just don't die."

All right, Robin swallowed, finally able to take a breath, now he only needed to extract himself. That would prove easier said than done, as the stragglers of the ambush proved no less vicious than its vanguard, making for a fatiguing struggle against scores of myrmidons and cavaliers who had hidden in the rear to put the final nail in the surprise attack's coffin, or so the tactician assumed. As Robin knocked one rider down with a burst of flame and ducked out of the way of a myrmidon's slash, he fell headlong into the wind of a mage, which carried him into the butt of another rider's spear. Grimacing and holding the sides of his head, Robin stood and lamented his luck as the swarming foe seemed to only continue to grow in number.

As if on cue, however, a line of steel ripped through the collapsing wall of troops, and a streak of red leapt in to back them up. "Anna?" the tactician recognized, "What are you doing? This is dangerous!"

"Saving you, genius!" she retorted, taking a swing at some of the advancing infantry.

"I'm not going to let you die!" he struck down a myrmidon aiming for her back.

"That's my line!" she did the same to an archer who was skulking around the outer limits of their self-imposed arena.

"I mean it!" he chastised, "Outta the way!"

"Ditto, short stuff!" she smirked, flipping over his head just for show and landing fluidly into a strike on a charging cavalier.

"Watch it!" he tossed a fireball and sent an axe-wielded sputtering to the ground not more than six inches from her.

They both panted as the enemy encircled them. "Maybe, in retrospect, this wasn't the best plan," the merchant rubbed her neck between breaths.

"Well, we're stuck now," huffed Robin.

Anna bowed her head and smiled again, "Oh, well... I always figured it'd go down kinda like this in my line of work. Half as long, twice as bright, as they say. Want to at least go out with a little bang, tactician-boy?"

"I wouldn't have it any other way," each faced the other, gripping tightly the hilts of their swords. With a final exchange of eye contact, they sprang forward:

"Checkmate!"

"Sold!"

"Robin, Anna, let's go!"

Both settled back on the ground, stumbling awkwardly in surprise at the voice. The Ylissean prince had cut through the eclipse of Plegian might. "Come on!" he beckoned, "If we run now, we can still make it!" Neither of the pair hesitated to follow him out of the squabble.

"What... got you... up and moving?" his tactician breathed as they hurried off.

"I realize I made a mistake... I won't let that happen again," he clenched his fist, "Taking a little time to think, I know what my role is now. I'm sorry for having forgotten it."

"Luckily," Robin smirked, "You arrived just before my threshold for forgiveness disappeared.

* * *

The redheaded merchant carefully adjusted the tie in her hair, ensuring her ponytail was at just the right angle. It was a difficult touch to notice in the azure moonlight, but such precision was what made her a pro. After a momentary self-pat-on-the-back, she quietly stepped forward, drawing ever closer to her target, then, very delicately lowering herself across from him... perfect. He still hadn't noticed, or, at least, he was pretending not to have noticed. Seeing him continue to stare blankly, she spoke up, "Things, uh, got pretty intense out there, huh?"

"No kidding," he half-shrugged, continuing his staring contest with the moon.

"I'm sorry for disobeying orders, but I'm not the most compliant of sorts," she noted.

"I got that sense," he smiled back at her, "but you don't need to apologize; you used your best judgment. That's all I can ask for in a soldier. If I wanted a bunch of simpletons who took orders without so much as a thought, well... Suffice it to say I wouldn't want that."

"Good, because you won't be getting it," the redhead chuckled. "I wanted to thank you for saving my bacon."

"I was going to say the same thing," he shrugged, "Well, not exactly, but, er... the point I wanted to make is that I barely know you, and you stuck out your neck for me, for all of us, like that. You'd think a merchant wouldn't be big on self-endangerment."

"Maybe I'm just not as mercenary as I ought to be," she supposed with a smile, "You care to cough up?"

The tactician chuckled, "Sorry, I'm flat broke."

"Wasting my time, then," quipped the redhead in reply. She turned her head back and the pair sat in silence as the wind lifted and ruffled their hair, "What are you sitting out here for, anyway?"

"No reason," he insisted, "just... thinking."

The merchant paused and looked back at him, cocking her eyebrow, "You can't hide anything from me, tactician-boy, I know that type of tone of voice. That's 'I have something to say but I don't want to say it so that I can sound all mysterious' voice."

"Not too mysterious," Anna noticed his hand tense and grip the ground beneath him, "I just... today hasn't really gone my way."

Anna didn't need him to tell her that, half the camp was in the medical tent as of this evening. Their grunts and groans of pain were still audible as the Shepherds struggled to find their way into sleep despite the horrific ambush early in the day. She would never say it to him, but today had been an outright disaster. "You're looking pretty composed, considering," she mused, "but, then, you're always breathing easy... it's like nothing ever gets to you."

Caught up in her consideration, Anna almost missed the tactician produce a feverish sniff. She turned her head in his direction as he hung his own, apparently trying to avert her eyes. "A lot of us almost died today," he said with the gravest of voices, seemingly impossible with the strained look on the part of his face that could be observed.

"You... you can't dwell on it, right?" the merchant shrugged. She really didn't have much advice to give on dealing with tactical failures.

"You're right," he dragged his sleeve across his face, "I... I can't falter. I have to seem... strong..."

The redhead tried to glance under his hair, hearing his voice waver wih the last word. "Seem?" she repeated inquisitively.

"I... uh..." he sputtered meaninglessly a moment, "Oh, gods... I can't... I'm a failure..."

"Easy, tactician-boy," she put an arm over his shoulder, "I don't think I've ever seen you this down."

"Something about tonight," Robin finally collected his thoughts, "I just... everything's been hitting me at once: our company's almost dead, I couldn't fight or recognize the ambush, I'm out here without anyone, unlike all the others, and I just... just..." The coherence seeped out of his voice as his eyes watered.

"Hiding behind walls of strength," Anna nodded knowingly, "I know about that all too well. People put up all kinds of fronts, but you'll never get anywhere hiding how you really feel."

As if suspicious of something, Robin glanced up into the merchant's fiery scarlet eyes, then stared back down, "I think it's only struck me with the camp this empty... Heh, maybe I shouldn't give myself time to think."

"I think you need a good night's rest," commented the merchant.

"Are you kidding? I haven't been able to sleep for days," he submitted half-jokingly.

"And how's that working out for you?" quipped Anna.

He shook his head, "I'm sorry, I honestly can't get to sleep, it's like I can't ever be calm, I just keep thinking about what's going to happen the next day and what our supplies are like and who needs extra training and how much medicine we have and whether or not our weapons are in good enough condition and if the horses need food and what our rations look like..." The tactician gathered himself, "I'm sorry, I must sound like a raving lunatic."

"You do," Anna nodded without hesitation.

"Thanks," he replied flatly. Robin sat in silence and stared at the redhead a moment longer before rubbing his neck, "I was thinking a little bit about that chat we had in my tent..."

"You were thinking about me?" Anna giggled, "I hope I'm not going to regret hearing this."

"N-Nothing like that," he blushed, "I just mean... you seem like pleasant company."

The merchant's head bobbed up and she cocked an eyebrow, "Beg pardon? That's a new one."

"I just mean... I enjoy talking to you, Anna. I feel like you and I could be... you know, friends," he fed her a weak smile.

Perhaps because of the sheer ridiculousness of the statement, the redhead felt herself compelled to smile, too, "Sure, why not?"

"And, Anna," he went on, wringing his hands.

"Hm?" her scarlet eyes watched him carefully.

The tactician moved his hand to his hair, "I find myself... troubled frequently, and it makes getting through the night difficult sometimes... but, as of late, I find that's no longer the case. I think of you, and then, everything just seems so... peaceful. There's a great warmth in my chest, and all my worries just seem to fade away as I drift into sleep. I don't know why that is, but I find it appropriate to thank you for it."

Anna had mastered the displaying of her emotions long ago, or so she thought. Somehow, with a few meager words, this nutjob tactician had her blushing like a schoolgirl, "Uh, I'm glad you feel that way, I guess."

"I'm sorry," he clasped his hands together, "was that strange to say?"

"No," she refuted, trying to work the warmth out of her cheeks. It wasn't strange at all. The truth was, she had found her thoughts lingering on the strange young man more often than she had ever been preoccupied with anyone or anything else, even gold, which was saying something. She wanted to know more about the stranger, what he thought, where he was from, what interested him... but she could never say any of that, she would sound insane! And maybe this was all some sort of trap!

"Well, I suppose I'll turn in, try to find some rest amid my nightly harrowing," the young man chuckled at her.

Okay, it wasn't a trap, she felt her heart melt. Even if it was a trap, she didn't care, but she would still need to he cautious and tactful in her approach: how could she learn more about the tactician without revealing her intent. An idea snapped into her mind, "You know, if you like the idea, we don't have to make the other night our only chat. Maybe I can visit you in your tent some nights and we can just shoot the breeze, you and me. Maybe it'll help you ease your mind on those tougher nights."

"I'd like that," Robin smiled.

"And it'd give me a chance to see where your head's at, especially at night. And you and I can back-and-forth a little like we did, and you can put another big smile on my face and... um..." the merchant caught herself.

"What was that last bit?" the tactician stopped playing with his hair.

She brushed her hands down her shirt, "Nothing, I lost my train of thought."

When she said nothing more, Robin let out one more sigh, then stood, "Well, time to see if I can surpass my restlessness another night. Maybe I'll think of how radiant you look in the moonlight."

A bit surprised with herself, Anna took advantage of the moment and stood, inserting herself close to the tactician's breast and pressing her mouth against his, surprised at the automatic warmth and tenderness that appeared to exude from both of them. After a few impassioned, irrational seconds, the redheaded merchant pulled her lips away from his slowly, "Does that make you feel a little more tranquil?"

He rubbed his lips confusedly, "Strangely, yes. Why did you do that?"

"See, when a girl likes a guy-"

"I know that," he rolled his eyes, "I mean, why me, specifically?"

"You needed it," Anna shrugged.

"So... what if I needed it again?" he blushed.

The merchant smirked at him, "Don't push your luck, kiddo. You're cute in a helpless little brother kinda way, that's all."

"But you did seem to imply that you liked me," he caught on, smirking.

"Maybe I was teasing," she tapped his nose playfully, "either way, you'll never know."

Robin was irked, but couldn't find a reply. Instead, the tactician simply watched dumbly as merchant sashayed away into the dark of night. He was compelled to speak to her again. She had a pleasant honesty about her, a mystery that begged to be explored, and, frankly, he conceded to himself that he found her teasing immensely attractive.

* * *

"...and in a way, that was the best and worst night of my life," the former tactician concluded with a stroke of his chin as his wife set down the cupful of steaming-hot tea on the coffee table before him.

"You sure do seem to know just the right moment to kiss dad, mom," Morgan reported, snowflakes still sitting on her cloak. The snow had started off slow, but when the family had woken up the next day, an entire blanket of the icy-cold powder had awaited them, and still more snow fell even as they spoke. Robin grimaced vaguely at the blizzard and sipped delicately from the cup.

"Call me a romantic," the merchant smiled proudly, "I wouldn't be much of a saleswoman if I didn't know how to get to people."

"Yeah," her husband snickered, "you got me with the oldest trick in the book: falling in love with me. I bet you can't do it again."

"Maybe I've just been putting you on all this time," she sat down in his lap and tugged at his cheek.

"Worth it," the former tactician smiled in reply.

"It's colder out there than I thought," Morgan observed absently, speaking to no one in particular, "it made me kind of hungry, too."

"Morgan," her father chuckled, "I say this with all the love in my heart: is there anything that doesn't make you hungry?" She giggled in reply.

"Speaking of," Anna pushed herself carefully off of her husband and onto the floor, "I think Steven will be wanting his breakfast pretty soon."

"It's just as well," Robin sipped his tea, "I have to go speak with Chrom."

"In this weather?" his wife stuck out her tongue, "Can't he give you a day's rest?"

"He's given me rest enough," Robin replied dutifully, "Plus, the poor man's helpless without me, Anna."

"That's true enough," she folded her arms, "I just wish you could hang around and keep warm."

"Me too," Robin sighed, "but it shouldn't take very long."

"Yeah, yeah," Anna whimpered, "Go 'head and leave me."

"I really can't stay," he breathed.

"But baby, it's cold outside," Anna rebutted.

"Look, this morning's been nice," he began, "but Chrom will start to worry."

"Really, honey," she winked at him, "what's your hurry?"

"What would he think if I ended up being late, huh?" demanded the former tactician.

"What do you care?" his wife smiled.

Robin took another sip of tea, then set the cup down, "What did you put in that?"

"Just a little something to keep you warm out there," the merchant teased.

"Look, I'm sorry, but my answer's 'no,'" Robin declared with finality.

"Fine," Anna shooed him out with her hand, "Catch pneumonia and die, I don't care."

"I'll be back before long," he assured her before he shut the door behind him.

The redhead waited and listened to the footsteps trail off for a few minutes before she stood at attention, "All right, Morgan, help me out for a moment, and then I've got another story to tell you."

"Oh, great!" her eyes lit up, "What do you need?"

"I'm wrapping a little gift for your father, a book he hasn't shut up about since it was published. I just need you to hold it in place while I fold up the paper," her mother explained.

"Oh, how sweet!" the smaller redhead fawned, "You guys act more like a couple of starry-eyed long-distance lovebirds rather than a husband and wife."

"Are you saying a husband and wife perform fewer gestures for each other than long-distance lovers?" Anna chuckled, "Because we've already talked about how familiarity factors into liking."

"Right," Morgan paused and changed her mind.

"Hold this string with your index finger, okay?" Anna instructed.

"Got it," the smaller redhead watched the glossy red ribbon be pulled down and curled before it was righted. Her mother slid a card beneath the fancy tie.

"How's that for packaging?" the merchant pridefully admired her handiwork.

"What's the story, mom?" Morgan demanded, sitting down on the sofa where she had previously been resting.

"Oh, right," the redheaded merchant flopped down into her husband's favorite armchair, "you see..."

* * *

"Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods," the tactician clutched each side of his head, "Dammit! Where did it go?!"

"Looking for something, Robin?" called Stahl from the other end of he room, "I don't think I've ever seen you so stressed out."

Robin looked to each side, then stepped up to the cavalier carefully.

He was cut off, "Hello there, lover."

"Ah!" his eyes jumped open in surprise, "Good morning to you, gorgeous."

"Sorry, Stahl," she sidled up to Robin and wrapped around his arm flirtatiously, "I know we must he so annoying acting all lovey-dovey, but I just can't keep my hands off my new hubby now that he's all mine."

"It's no skin off my nose," chuckled the viridian knight, "just don't be doing anything lewd outside your bedchambers, or, at least, be discreet if you do."

"No trouble," Anna pecked her husband's cheek, "I've gotta go open up the store, okay, sweetie?"

"Sure thing, hon," he smiled genially, "I'll drop by as soon as I get a chance."

"Don't be long," she instructed before sliding her hands down her legs languidly, "I can only do so much waiting." Robin blushed and his new wife giggled at his discomfort, "Seriously, though, I'll get bored if you don't hurry, and then you'll be in for it."

"Understood," he nodded, only slightly more relieved, "see you, honey." They kissed quickly and the redhead made off for the streets of the capital.

"Did you need something before, Robin?" Stahl asked after the merchant was a few minutes out the door.

The tactician was sweating, "Stahl, you've got to help me, I somehow lost my wedding ring!"

"Lost it?" the cavalier scratched his forehead, "Well, that's not too bad. Where was the last place you remember wearing it?"

"My bedchambers, but I already turned that whole place upside-down," he sighed defeatedly.

"Well, a second pair of eyes never hurt anyone," Stahl supposed, "Let me have a look."

"Be my guest," Robin followed him upstairs. The cavalier began to comb the room, working it like a grid of smaller areas, searching behind bookshelves and dressers, thoroughly inspecting window-wells, and dropping to his knees to search under the bed and lone chair in the room.

Slowly, the viridian knight pulled something out from beneath the bed, "I think I found something out of place; it feels round."

Robin's eyes widened, then fell as the cavalier held up the item. Stahl blushed as he held the triangular garment suspended between his hands. "Uh, you probably felt the bear's tail," the tactician rubbed his neck, staring at the smallclothes, "...that's her favorite pair. She'll be glad we didn't lose them..."

Stahl carefully tucked away the unmentionables, then continued to glance about the room, finding a lamp resting awkwardly on the page of a book. Mostly out of sheer curiosity, he lifted the lamp. No ring, but he scanned the text quickly, finding the title first: "Lucky Sevens: The Catharsis Staff?"

"That was a joint purchase!" Robin writhed, "I... Anna was getting really fidgety one night and-"

"That'll do, thanks," Stahl shook his head, "Well, you're right about one thing: I don't see a ring anywhere."

"Argh," Robin refocused himself, "where could I have left it?"

"Did you check your pockets?" suggested the cavalier.

"Naturally," the tactician shoved his hands into the pockets of his cloak just to be safe.

The knight tapped his finger on his forehead, "Maybe it slipped off at supper, or at a meeting sometime?"

"I doubt it, but I have no other leads," Robin supposed. The pair wandered back down the stairs and began to examine the dining hall and the meeting room Robin frequented alongside Chrom, where they turned up precious little.

As Robin began to panic more and more intensely with each passing moment, Stahl finally found something that caught his eye. "Look here," he commanded, "There's a mark on the floor here that's angled, but in the shape of a semi-circle, and there's a fleck of something gold nearby, as if something gold and ring-shaped was trod upon here."

"Huh," Robin observed simply, "Good pickup."

"There's a trail here, too, rubber something from someone's boots," Stahl continued, "like they skidded on the floor. If we can find more of this residue, we can map out an exact trail, and maybe your ring will be at the end of it."

"Wow, your perception and deduction are impressive, Stahl," the tactician admitted.

"I've always had a knack for finding stuff other's can't see. My mom wanted me to work as an investigator for the magistrate at one time," he explained.

The pair continued on the case, detecting all the smallest hints of blackish residue they could find and following its pattern as best they could until, eventually, they realized it fed back into Robin and Anna's bedchambers. "Damn," the tactician lamented, "it must have been my own boots. We're back to square one."

"Stahl, what'n the sam hell are you doing?" demanded an authoritative voice from the doorway.

"Oh, hey Sully," he perked his head up, "I was helping Robin look for something he lost."

"Whad'ya lose?" she glanced at the tactician.

He swallowed hard, "...My wedding ring."

"You lost your wedding ring, you tactless dummy?!" Sully railed.

"Not so loud!" the tactician pleaded, "Yes, and I'm feeling awful about it"

"As well you should! Do you have any idea how broken up Anna's going to be about that?!" the redheaded cavalier stomped her foot.

"Yes, so help me look!" demanded Robin.

"Nuh-uh," she shook her head, "You made your bed, you can sleep in it."

"Aw, don't be so harsh, Sully," requested her husband.

She cut him down with a glare, "Stahl, unless you're aiming to see what happens when I get angry, you'd better hurry along."

"Yes ma'am," he bolted up, "sorryrobinhatetodothisbutyoureonyourown!"

"Perfect," the tactician sat indelicately upon his bed. He stared longingly at one of his wife's outfits, slightly stuck out of the closet from all the others, "Oh, Anna... I'm so sorry... what am I going to do? I don't want her to think I'm so callous as to just forget where I put it; I know it was on my finger just last night... but I also know it didn't fall under the bed or in between the blankets, pillows, or sheets, so where could it have gone?"

"What's with the long face, Bubbles?" called a voice from the doorway.

"Gaius, what are you doing here?" the tactician glanced up.

He hesitated, "Uh, NOT stealing some of those cookies downstairs."

Robin shook his head, "Whatever. Do you think you could help me? I can't find my wedding ring."

The ginger-haired thief smirked as he shoved a lollipop between his teeth, "You're in luck. Retrievals are no trouble, but it's going to cost ya."

"I'll see what I can get my hands on if you find the ring," Robin tapped his foot.

"No dice. Payment up front," demanded Gaius.

"I've got a jar of jellied citrus fruit Anna couldn't find a buyer for. Consider it a deposit," the tactician promised, handing over the jar.

Gaius yanked off the lid and dipped two fingers inside, proceeding to lick them clean, "Mm... not too shabby, Bubbles. Now, let's find that ring of yours." The thief began with a quick scan of the room: "Picked clean. Can't be in here." He said nothing to his employer as he marched down the staircase, taking a whiff of the air. Seeming to notice something, he bent down to a chair in the sitting room of the castle. The ginger-haired man took his time feeling out the chair, apparently trying to sense something from it. Robin rolled his eyes as Gaius stood back up and continued in a different random direction.

* * *

"Gaius," Robin took hold of the thief's shoulder, "You've been looking for over an hour now, and this is about the eighth time you've come back to the door. Can you at least tell me what it is you're searching for?"

"Uh, well, y'see Bubbles, this here carpet has a lot of special fibers that, uh," Gaius tugged at his collar. Suddenly, the door cracked open and Anna's trademark red outfit peeked out from behind it. "Welllookslikeyourescrewedseeyouround!" The ginger-haired thief tore off out of the nearest castle window.

Anna watched perplexedly as he leapt, "Uh, was that Gaius?"

"He's always up to something since the war ended," Robin shrugged nonchalantly, "We need to find him a hobby."

"Amen," the merchant nodded, "but what gives? You always visit before my lunch break, and you don't seem particularly busy."

"Oh," he rubbed his neck, "that's easy, I was just... um... Chrom was, uh... we were, we were..."

"I'm glad I married such an awful liar," Anna folded her arms, "Spit it out: what's up?"

Robin sighed and hung his head, "I can't lie to you, Anna... I lost the wedding ring you gave me."

"You lost it?" she scowled, "Robin! That was a sign of my affection! A very cheaply obtained sign, but a sign no less!"

"I know, and I feel just terrible about it," he put his hands up.

"Did you really lose it, or did you just hide it so you could court some of the help?" his wife demanded angrily.

"What?!" the tactician recoiled, "No, nothing of the sort!"

"You know you owe me some big-time favors for this, right?" she leered at her husband impatiently.

He sighed resignedly, "Of course. What can I do for you?"

"My feet have been begging for a good wash and rub for the past week," the redhead tapped her finger on her chin.

"You say that almost like you had it ready beforehand," her husband grimaced.

Anna shrugged, "I was going to make you do it anyway, but now I have a justification." The tactician acquiesced, prompting the merchant to loosen her boots as she climbed the stairs, kicking them off at the doorway to their bedchambers and leaving only her stockings underneath.

"Want me to take your shirt?" her husband offered, "It's hotter than the underside of a wyvern's scales out there, and I can see the sweat spots on it."

"Rude," the redheaded merchant chided him, "No, I'll hold on to it. You don't deserve the reward of seeing me shirtless."

"Just trying to help," the tactician shrugged, "It wouldn't take but a minute."

"Well, I said 'no,' so forget about it," Anna huffed.

Robin's brow shifted, "What are you getting all defensive about?"

"I dunno what you're on about," Anna peeled off her stockings, "Just get that water ready."

"Whatever you say," he shrugged as she walked by him, "Gotcha!"

"Ack! Robin, what the hell?!" she screamed as the tactician seized her.

"I may be a crappy liar, but you're not much better," he grinned, moving his hand fitfully around her shirt.

"Lemme go, you perv! I'm gonna break your arm in half if you touch me any more!" the merchant growled.

"Ah, and what have we here?" a pleased smile developed on her husband's face as he reached for the center of his wife's chest, just below her neck.

"Stick your hands anywhere near there and I'll bite 'em off myself," the redhead snarled.

"Really, Anna," Robin blushed slightly as he slid his finger down her shirt and towed the line of her cleavage, finding his target and pulling it out quickly, "isn't this sort of hiding spot a little juvenile?"

Anna covered her chest protectively as she broke away, but her eyes widened as she saw her husband pinching his missing wedding ring between his index finger and thumb, "Well, uh, what a coinky-dink... how did that get in there?"

"You were gonna force me to wash your feet for this?!" he barked, "I went through some real emotional trauma because I thought I had really lost something meaningful to you and to me!"

"Now, let's not get all hot under the collar," the redhead wrung her hands.

"I've got a chore for you, you nasty little thief!" her husband scowled.

"Eep!" she leapt up, shoving past him to get through the doorway. He chased after her angrily, leading to a day full of very confused onlookers, panting, yelling, and eventual forgiveness, all culminating in the ultimate bewilderment of Chrom, who for about the thousandth time, prayed for just one normal day in the presence of those two.

* * *

"I don't get it," Morgan declared simply, "why did you tell me a story like that?"

"I guess my point is, no matter how old we get, I want you to remember that your mom and dad are basically both still kids at heart."

"Blushing schoolkids, at that, if dad's story holds any weight," the smaller redhead added.

"We've had quite the history, that's for sure, and I'm glad you were here to be a part of it, Morgan," her mother smiled.

"Aw, mom," her daughter smiled in kind, "You'll rot both our teeth, getting so mushy."

"Sorry, mom's in a mushy mood today," the merchant chuckled, stretching out and yawning.

"I'm back," declared a familiar voice, pulling down his hood, which was coated in snow, "What's going on?"

"Oh, not much," his wife replied lazily as the fire crackled, "I was just telling Morgan another little story."

"Which one?" he wondered, setting his coat aside.

"The lost wedding ring," she grinned, knowing how it would make him feel.

"Finally revealing your underhandedness to your daughter, eh?" the former tactician snickered.

The merchant stuck out her tongue, "Still bitter about it, huh?"

"Don't give me that," he discouraged, walking over to her, "See? I come bearing gifts."

"Oh, Robin... this is... this is my mother's locket," her eyes began to water. She had thought it lost after the burial.

"I know. I looked up and down for it, and I finally got a contact to nail it down. It wasn't easy, and I was stuck on wondering when to give it to you, but I figured the sooner the better, in this case. So, uh, happy two-and-a-half-year anniversary, I guess," Robin smiled weakly.

"Oh, thank you," she said softly as she hugged him tightly. He sat down his armchair and she hopped into his lap. Eventually, when she was done expressing gratitude, she sniffled into a laugh, "It's funny, I planned on giving you a little gift today, too, given how dour the cold is making things, but it just looks like a bribe by comparison." The merchant held out the book in the hand that wasn't caressing her husband's icy neck.

"What? Are you kidding?" Robin smiled incredulously, "This is that history of Roy, the son of Marquess Eliwood of Pherae! I've been looking for it everywhere! I'm amazed you found it!"

"You'd be surprised what a merchant can do when she sets her mind to something," she said coyly as they shared a kiss.

"You make me feel like a jerk, not having any presents," Morgan plodded over to them both.

"Not at all, Morgan," her father assured her.

"Your being here is enough," added her mother.

"You know, this is nice," Robin settled himself, "Sharing stories and a few gifts, letting the warmth of our love shut out the cold... we should do this more often."

"That was awfully corny, but I'm on board," his wife pressed her face into his chest.

"Group hug!" Morgan shouted as she leapt onto both of them.

And that was the story of how a man without memory met a snarky, conceited woman with a mysterious heart, and how they shared their feelings in what could only be described as the most insane and backwards method imaginable. But that never troubled either one of them, as it became increasingly clear that they shaped and fed into the personalities of one another. By whatever bizarre or even frankly miraculous means, these two perfect strangers who met under the most unlikely of circumstances fell head-first into finding a way toward each other's heart, and became a perfect match. And neither one of them, regardless of forgotten past lives nor fading memories of the liberty of the open road, could ever recall missing much about the days that had gone past, of the days before they had found one another, for that truly became all that they saw. A shame, too. What good is a merchant with no regard for gold or a tactician who can't keep his eyes focused on the battle? None to anyone... except each other, of course. And they would frequently remark that that was the way they liked it.

* * *

"Ah, but that was all very long ago," concluded the old man, stroking the salt-and-pepper hairs of his beard. Beneath him, a dignified-looking you man with silver hair, a huddling boy and girl in matching cloaks, and a small redhead who was currently sporting her father's cloak as a blanket all huddled by the crackling fire.

"You're wearing your poor father out," said an older woman's voice as her footsteps echoed down the hall, "Why don't you kids get up to bed?"

"Yes, mother," the silver-haired young man complied, leading his siblings obeisantly upstairs. The small redheaded girl took a moment to pause and smile at the older man in the worn-out chair.

"Good night, my darling," he whispered to her before pecking her on the forehead. She clutched her teddy bear affectionately in response and then followed her older brother up the stairs quickly.

"It's quite a life we lead," the redheaded woman put her hand on her husband's shoulder.

"I wouldn't trade it," he told the empty house.

"You and I authored enough stories to keep those kids entertained for a decade, didn't we?" she laughed as she hugged him.

"Certainly, but they're more than just stories," he noted.

"How do you mean?" his wife indulged him.

"Each memory we keep, of the life we've shared... we wind a little narrative with each passing day, and that narrative is a novel bound by love and affection. To preserve one of those memories... I take it and present it as a token of my affection to you, that by recounting the story of our love, I can in some small way repay you for all the happiness you've given me."

The redheaded woman smiled faintly as she stared up at her husband, not daring to make a sound as the spiking of the fire played shadows upon his face.

"Robin?"

"Yes, Anna?"

"That was really cheesy."


End file.
